.  OF  GAMF.  L1WURY.  LO* 


GRANDMONT 


STORIES  OF  AN  OLD  MONASTERY 


BY 

WALTER   T.    GRIFFIN 


CINCINNATI :  CURTS  &  JENNINGS 

NEW  YORK;  EATON  &  MAINS 


Copyright  by 

HUNT  &  EATON 

1895. 


PREFACE. 


HOLDING  an  official  position  in  that  part  of  France 
correctly  called  "  Le  Centre,"  with  the  scenes  of 
historic  interest  greeting  the  eye  on  every  side,  it 
was  only  natural  that  the  long  hours  between  office 
duties  should  be  employed  in  research.  The  great 
Municipal  Library  of  Limoges,  so  replete  with  ancient 
manuscripts,  whose  treasures  have  never  yet  been 
brought  out  by  the  printing  press  to  meet  the  public 
eye,  the  rare  old  volumes  that  have  been  lost  sight  of  in 
the  progress  of  the  centuries,  offered  too  great  a  tempta- 
tion to  a  naturally  inquisitive  mind  to  be  neglected, 
especially  when  his  honor  the  Mayor  of  Limoges  placed 
these  literary  relics  at  the  disposition  of  the  writer.  The 
strange  and  curious  tales  that  are  herein  related  are  all 
founded  on  what  has  been  read  and  gleaned  from  these 
writings. 

The  Monastery  of  Grandmont  was  chosen  because  for 
five  centuries  it  was  the  most  influential  agency  of  both 
Church  and  State  in  this  part  of  France  and  Europe, 
and  here  princes  and  lords  from  England,  Germany, 
Italy,  and  France  came  to  arbitrate  their  cause  and 
enjoy  the  privilege  of  sanctuary.  The  foundation  and 
rise  of  such  an  institution,  together  with  the  incidents  of 
life  and  manners  of  those  distant  times,  it  was  hoped 
would  be  a  subject  of  interest  to  the  readers  of  to-day 
who  are  fond  of  looking  backward  through  the  mazes 
already  passed  in  the  triumphal  march  of  civilization. 

Every  character  in  this  book  has  really  existed.    That 

21 29714 


8  PREFACE. 

of  Etienne  is  as  nearly  a  biography  as  is  possible  to 
give.  He  founded  the  Monastery  of  Grandmont,  and  all 
the  stories  told  of  him  have  been  gathered  from  his  life. 
Hugues  also  was  a  real  personage,  and  his  name  is 
prominent  in  many  of  the  old  records  of  chivalry  and 
monastic  life.  Each  of  the  other  characters  has  been 
drawn  from  what  has  been  given  as  actual  history.  The 
only  liberty  that  has  been  taken  is  to  ascribe  to  ficti- 
tious persons  certain  words,  actions,  and  exploits  such 
as  were  common  in  those  days. 

The  data  from  which  the  scenes  are  taken  is  as  fol- 
lows :  Destruction  de  FOrdre  et  de  FAbbaye  de  Grand- 
mont, par  M.  Louis  Guibert.  LeMoyen  Age  et  la  Renais- 
sance, 5  vols.  Histoire  de  Limoges  et  du  Haut  et 
Bas  Limousin  mise  en  Harmonic,  par  J.  A.  A.  Barney 
Romanet.  Annales  Ordonis  Grandmontis,  nunc  primum 
editi  et  in  hanc  Epitomem  Redacti. 

F.  Joanne  Levesque  Trecensi,  Prior  Villamedrans 
(1662).  Histoire  Politique  Civile  et  Religieuse  du  Bas- 
Limousin  Depuis  les  Temps  Anciens,  par  M.  Marvaud. 
Limousin  Historique,  par  H.  Arnvul  et  A.  Leymarie. 
Histoire  du  Limousin  et  de  la  Bourgeoisie,  par  Leymarie. 
Description  des  Monuments  des  Different  Ages  Observes 
dans  le  Departement  de  la  Haute  Vienne,  avec  un  precis, 
Redige"e  par  ordre  de  le  Ministre  de  1'Interieur,  par 
C.  N.  Allou,  Ingenieur  au  Corps  Royal  des  Mines. 
Annales  Manuscriptes  de  Limoges,  dites  Manuscrit  de 
1638,  publics  sous  les  Auspices  de  la  Socie*t6  Archeo- 
logique  et  Historique  du  Limousin ;  par  Emile  Ruben, 
Felix  Achard,  Paul  Ducourtreux,  Membres  de  Cette  So- 
ciet6.  Croyances  Populaire,  P.  L.  Jacob.  Curiosities 
Biographiques,  par  Ludovic  Lulanne.  Histoire  des  Croi- 
sades,  par  M.  Michaud.  Recits  de  F  Histoire  du  Limousin, 
publie  par  la  Soci6t6  Archeologique  et  Historique  de 
Limoges. 


PREFACE.  9 

Special  remembrance  and  thanks  are  due  to  the  mu- 
nicipality of  Limoges  for  access  to  the  unclassified 
manuscripts,  which  were  full  of  interest ;  to  the  librarian 
of  the  British  Museum,  whose  kindly  help  was  thank- 
fully received  in  searching  out  data ;  to  the  archivistc  of 
"LaBibliotheque  Nationale,"at  Paris,  whose  advice  was 
of  great  value ;  to  the  present  Baron  de  Mont  Brun,  and 
many  others  who  have  aided  the  author  to  get  the  neces- 
sary information  to  complete  the  work  now  accom- 
plished. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ROME 17 

CHAPTER  II. 
AN  ELEVENTH  CENTURY  EVANGELIST 28 

CHAPTER  III. 
FORSAKING  ALL  THINGS 36 

CHAPTER   IV. 
A  STURDY  MONK 47 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  CONVERSION  OF  REUBEN  AND  NAPHTALI 54 

CHAPTER  VI. 
PREACHING  THE  FIRST  CRUSADE 65 

CHAPTER  VIL 
Two  PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS 74 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  FUNERAL  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 87 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
KNIGHT  AND  MONK 92 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  TRIAL  BY  BATTLE 104 

CHAPTER   XI. 
HUGUES  RETURNS  TO  GRANDMONT 114 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FALSE  WITNESS 123 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
A  MEDIAEVAL  MARRIAGE 141 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

SOLIGNAC  AT  GRANDMONT 147 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  HUNDRED  Sous 153 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
SOLIGNAC  MEETS  HIS  BISHOP 161 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
AN  ARROW  IN  THE  DARK 169 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
CATCHING  A  TARTAR 182 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
IN  THE  CATHEDRAL  or  ST.  MARTIAL,-... ii 


CONTENTS.  13 

CHAPTER  XX.  PAGE 

THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES 197 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  CLOVEN  HOOF 215 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
EXORCISING  THE  DEMONS 227 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  REFUGEE 235 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
PRIVATE  WAR 245 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
DUKE  FULK  THE  BLACK 251 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CONCLUSION..  .  266 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

"  THE  LORD  WILLS  IT." Frontispiece 

RUINS  OF  CASTLE  NEAR  THIERS 40 

RUINED  CASTLE  OF  MONTBRUN 93 

RUINS  OF  HUGUES'S  CASTLE  OF  CHALUS i  ig 


GRANDMONT; 

OR, 

STORIES  OF  AN  OLD   MONASTERY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON    THE    ROAD    TO    ROME. 

«  (~\  MONSIEUR  ETIENNE,  Monsieur  Etienne  ! 
V^/  Monsieur  le  Comte  wishes  you  to  go  immedi- 
ately to  his  room.  I  have  just  taken  him  a  big  letter 
that  a  courier  from  the  Chateau  de  Clermont  brought. 
I  am  sure  that  it  contains  news  about  your  departure, 
because,  as  soon  as  your  father  had  broken  the  seal,  he 
sent  me  to  call  you." 

It  was  old  Lazarus,  a  trusted  valet  of  the  Comte  de 
Thiers,  that  had  hurried  almost  breathless  into  the  inner 
court  of  the  castle,  where  Etienne  de  Thiers  was  talking 
with  his  sisters,  to  tell  his  young  master  that  he  was 
wanted.  The  valet  seized  the  young  man's  hand  and 
kissed  it  affectionately.  The  sisters  looked  frightened 
and  hastened  to  their  mother's  side  to  know  the  news, 
while  the  youth,  obedient  to  his  father's  summons,  went 
to  the  little  room  that  looked  unlike  an  office.  The 
walls  were  hung  with  swords,  crossbows,  implements  of 
war  and  the  chase,  which  delighted  the  heart  of  their 
possessor.  Etienne  stood  respectfully  before  his  father, 
waiting  to  hear  what  he  would  say. 

"  Well,  my  son,  the  courier  brings  me  word  that  the 


1 8  GRANDMONT. 

Comte  de  Clermont  starts  with  his  cavalcade  to-morrow 
at  sunrise.  You  are  to  join  him  at  Ambert  in  the  after- 
noon. He  has  a  large  company,  and  you  will  have  a 
very  fortunate  escort.  It  is  time  that  you  were  getting 
all  ready,  as  you  should  leave  the  castle  an  hour  before 
sunrise  in  order  to  meet  the  comte  at  the  appointed 
place.  I  will  accompany  you  until  you  join  your  es- 
cort." 

The  speaker  was  above  the  average  type  of  knights  of 
the  eleventh  century.  He  was  of  medium  height,  thick- 
set, his  beard  was  just  beginning  to  be  tinged  with  gray. 
Accustomed  from  his  boyhood  to  athletic  sport,  he  was 
noted  for  his  great  physical  strength.  His  mind  was  as 
strong  as  his  body,  and  what  the  Comte  de  Thiers  deter- 
mined should  be  done  was  always  accomplished.  His 
neighbors  respected  his  will,  and  his  enemies  were  con- 
tent to  let  him  alone. 

The  young  man  to  whom  the  comte  was  speaking 
was  his  only  son  Etienne,  now  in  his  eighteenth  year. 
The  good  bishop  under  whose  care  he  had  been  placed 
had  informed  the  father  that  the  young  vicomte  had 
made  as  much  progress  under  his  teaching  as  he  was 
able  to  give,  and,  as  all  the  youths  of  noble  families  con- 
sidered their  education  incomplete  until  they  had  visited 
Rome,  the  old  comte  was  very  anxious  for  his  son  to 
spend  some  time  in  that  city.  When  De  Thiers  heard 
that  his  friend  and  neighbor  the  Comte  de  Clermont  was 
about  to  make  the  journey,  he  lost  no  time  in  placing 
his  son  under  the  escort  of  this  nobleman. 

Etienne  was  a  tall,  slender  boy,  very  mild  in  dispo- 
sition, of  a  thoughtful  turn  of  mind,  and  studious  in  his 
habits.  The  vicomte  was  almost  the  opposite  of  his 
father,  who  had  no  sentiment  about  him  whatsoever, 
holding  books  in  contempt.  He  used  to  say,  that 
"books  were  good  things  for  monks,  priests,  and 


ON   THE   ROAD   TO   ROME.  IQ 

bishops,  but  they  will  never  be  able  to  save  one's  head 
from  the  battleax." 

His  only  son  was  his  pride  and  hope.  The  comte 
wanted  to  see  his  boy  one  of  the  great  military  leaders 
of  France.  He  even  aspired  to  have  him  become  Duke 
of  Aquitaine.  The  Comte  of  Clermont  had  no  son  ;  his 
only  child  was  a  daughter,  two  years  younger  than 
Etienne.  The  union  of  these  two  families  would  mean 
that  the  entire  dukedom  of  Aquitaine  would  be  theirs. 
This  was  the  ambition  of  both  parents. 

The  Comte  de  Thiers  had  always  considered  his  son 
rather  weak  physically.  He  hoped  to  change  his  whole 
nature  by  sending  him  to  Rome,  where  Etienne  was  to 
be  placed  under  military  direction  that  he  might  be 
trained  in  arms  and  fitted  for  a  soldier,  as  became  his 
rank.  While  the  boy  had  never  shown  any  cowardice 
and  had  on  occasion  exhibited  great  courage,  especially 
when  he  rescued  his  sisters  from  wolves,  the  servants 
having  run  away  leaving  the  girls  exposed  to  the  wild 
animals,  nevertheless  the  whole  tenor  of  his  mind  was 
opposed  to  military  pursuits.  He  only  engaged  in  the 
chase  to  please  his  father.  He  would  willingly  join  in 
running  down  a  wild  boar,  but  when  the  death  stroke 
was  given  Etienne  would  always  find  an  excuse  to  turn 
his  back ;  the  sight  of  blood  sickened  him.  The  father 
hoped  that  a  visit  to  Rome  would  work  an  entire 
change  in  him,  and  that  he  would  return  a  hardy,  piti- 
less warrior  after  the  ideal  of  the  hard  century  in 
which  he  lived. 

There  was  not  much  sleep  in  the  Castle  of  Thiers 
that  night.  Everybody  was  bustling,  preparing  for  the 
departure  of  Etienne.  Two  servants  were  to  accompany 
the  young  vicomte  to  Rome.  They  were  well  mounted 
and  armed,  and  would  act  as  bodyguard  to  Etienne. 
Long  before  daybreak  the  horns  sounded,  and  the  in- 
2 


2O  GRAND  MONT. 

mates  assembled  to  bid  the  traveler  adieu.  The  com- 
tesse  could  not  keep  back  the  tears,  and  his  sisters 
kissed  him  again  and  again,  reminding  him  of  his  prom- 
ise to  bring  them  back  some  token  from  Rome.  The 
old  comte,  already  mounted,  cried  out,  "  Come,  come, 
no  more  baby  tears  ;  we  must  be  off  !  "  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  little  troop  had  crossed  the  drawbridge  and 
was  hastening  on  the  road  toward  Ambert. 

"  Etienne,  I  have  a  final  charge  to  give  thee,"  said  the 
father,  when  they  were  well  under  way.  "  Thou  art 
going  to  the  city  famous  for  its  heroes,  its  victories,  and 
its  once  military  grandeur.  Remember  that  we  Gauls 
were  conquered  by  the  Romans,  not  because  we  were 
inferior  in  courage  or  strength,  but  because  we  lacked 
discipline,  skill,  and  arms.  I  send  thee  thither  to  learn 
the  things  that  we  lacked,  that  upon  thy  return  thou 
mayest  not  only  be  worthy  to  be  called  Comte  de  Thiers, 
but  also  be  found  great  and  brave  enough  to  be  higher 
than  thy  father — even  to  attain  the  Duchy  of  Aquitaine. 
Remember  that  thou  art  to  be  a  warrior;  that  every 
prize  that  the  world  has  to  offer  is  thrown  at  the  soldier's 
feet ;  that  he  alone  is  crowned  as  worthy  to  rule  over  his 
fellows.  Have  but  little  regard  for  books,  and  pay  but 
slight  attention  to  priests  ;  it  is  enough  for  them  to 
shrive  thee  at  the  last  moment.  The  clergy  are  not 
able  to  develop  strong  men,  neither  do  they  make  good 
fighters." 

With  many  such  words  as  these  the  father  used  his 
best  endeavors  to  fire  his  son  with  ambition  and  deter- 
mination to  rise  to  the  height  which  parental  wishes  had 
already  pictured  for  the  fond  object  of  affection. 
Etienne  remained  silent  during  the  exhortations  of  his 
father,  and  at  the  close  gave  as  his  only  answer,  "  I 
shall  try  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  my  noble  father." 

The  sun  was  already  beginning  to  sink  in  the  west  be- 


ON  THE   ROAD   TO   ROME.  21 

fore  the  heralds,  who  were  on  the  outlook,  saw  in  the 
distance  the  cloud  of  dust  made  by  the  approaching 
cavalcade  of  the  Comte  de  Clermont. 

Loud  and  lusty  were  the  cheers  that  rang  out  from 
the  company  of  Thiers  when  the  looked-for  cavalcade 
was  hailed,  and  right  hearty  was  the  response.  The  two 
comtes  greeted  each  other  with  true  knightly  etiquette, 
and  the  rest  of  the  company  fell  a  little  behind.  After 
the  first  salutations  were  over,  Thiers  in  his  bluff  way 
exclaimed : 

"I  commit  to  your  care  the  most  precious  jewel  of  the 
castle,  and  I  am  certain  that  in  your  hands  the  value  will 
be  enhanced." 

"I  shall  look  out  for  him,"  was  the  answer.  "And  it 
will  be  necessary  for  you  to  make  additions  to  your  tur- 
rets by  the  time  he  returns.  I  expect  that  we  will  be 
like  old  dogs  in  his  presence — only  able  to  show  our 
teeth  and  growl.  He  will  have  all  the  latest  arts  of  war 
at  his  finger  ends,  so  that  unless  he  becomes  pope  he  will 
be  a  king." 

Etienne  smiled  sadly  and  silently.  But  the  words  of 
Clermont  stirred  up  the  ambition  of  Comte  de  Thiers, 
which  was  already  duly  excited,  and  he  replied : 

"  You  have  well  expressed  my  thoughts  and  hopes, 
only  I  would  sooner  see  him  with  a  crown  upon  his  head 
than  the  tiara.  I  have  just  told  Etienne  that  he  has  the 
finest  prospects  before  him  of  any  youth  in  Gaul.  With 
our  two  houses  united  he  can  dictate  terms  to  all  Gas- 
cogny  and  Burgundy.  Thus  strengthened,  who  will  be 
able  to  stand  before  his  army  ?  " 

"That  is  very  possible,"  cried  Clermont;  "but  I  have 
long  regarded  with  impatience  the  fact  that  the  head  of 
the  Church  must  be  one  to  whose  elevation  the  German 
sovereign  gives  consent.  How  can  we  expect  great 
things  for  France  under  such  conditions  ?  This  power 


22  GRANDMONT. 

must  be  brought  from  the  banks  of  the  Danube  and 
Rhine  to  those  of  the  Rhone  and  Seine.  I  am  living  in 
hope  that  Etienne  will  be  the  leader  whose  victorious 
arms  will  change  the  present  state  of  comparative  indif- 
ference in  Gaul  to  one  that  will  make  her,  as  she  should 
be,  the  chief  power  in  Europe,  so  that  her  voice  shall 
be  the  one  that  decides  all  matters  relating  to  imperial 
and  ecclesiastical  affairs." 

Many  had  been  the  conversations  of  these  two  knights 
over  the  same  subject,  and  they  did  not  say  anything 
now  but  what  Etienne  had  heard  a  hundred  times  be- 
fore. 

Eight  hundred  years  ago  there  existed  in  the  French 
heart  as  deep  a  jealousy  of  the  German  power  as  to-day, 
and  the  influence  that  Germany  exerted  at  Rome  was 
such  as  made  all  Gaul  feel  humiliated.  Many  were  the 
threats  made  and  frequent  were  the  attempts  to  change 
the  seat  of  power,  but  all  in  vain.  The  two  comtes 
hoped  that  by  repeating  these  ideas  Etienne  would  be 
inspired  with  their  own  enthusiasm  for  the  great  project 
that  seemed  to  them  and  the  Gauls  in  general  of  the 
greatest  importance. 

At  Ambert  both  parties  camped  for  the  night  after 
having  partaken  of  a  hearty  meal.  While  the  fathers 
talked,  Etienne  stretched  himself  upon  the  ground  and 
was  soon  enjoying  the  sleep  of  youth. 

Long  before  sunrise  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  the 
whole  company  was  astir.  The  Comte  de  Thiers  gave  a 
parting  charge  to  Etienne,  the  counts  saluted  one  another 
and  parted — one  to  return  home  without  his  heart,  which 
followed  the  cavalcade  to  Rome  ;  the  other  turned  his 
face  toward  the  east.  Had  anyone  been  able  to  pene- 
trate into  Etienne's  thoughts  at  this  moment,  a  strange 
contradiction  would  have  been  seen.  There  was,  indeed, 
a  determination,  or  rather  a  desire,  to  accomplish  all  that 


ON  THE   ROAD   TO   ROME.  23 

his  father's  ambition  longed  for,  and  to  obtain  the  cov- 
eted power  that  the  old  comte  would  like  to  have  won, 
for  the  son  had  no  more  love  for  the  Germans  than  his 
compatriots  in  the  last  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century 
have.  But  the  soldier's  life,  with  its  coarseness,  brutality, 
and  blood,  was  very  repugnant  to  him.  His  soul  turned 
toward  the  Church;  but,  knowing  well  his  father's  oppo- 
sition to  such  a  life,  Etienne  determined  that  he  would 
be  a  soldier  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

The  old  Roman  road  to  Rome  followed  the  Rhone  for 
a  long  distance,  then  turned  to  the  east  and  south.  As 
Etienne  had  never  been  from  home,  there  was  a  new 
charm  in  every  village.  Different  customs,  habits,  and 
dress  greeted  him.  The  language  of  his  native  Auvergne 
was  changed  for  a  strange  jargon  that  he  could  not  un- 
derstand. The  peasantry  wore  costumes  and  head- 
gear never  before  seen.  Even  the  fruits  and  trees  were 
all  changed.  When  they  had  crossed  the  Alps  and  de- 
scended into  -Italy,  his  admiration  was  unbounded. 

"  Look  at  these  fields,  my  boy,"  said  the  Comte  de 
Clermont ;  "  how  well  adapted  they  are  to  cultivation  ! 
See  these  fruits.  The  people,  with  their  fertile  fields, 
are  like  ripe  pears  waiting  for  a  master  hand  to  pluck 
them.  These  creatures  are  so  effete  they  have  given 
themselves  over  to  too  great  luxury  and  ease.  They 
could  not  stand  before  a  solid  phalanx  of  Gauls,  but 
would  turn  and  run  like  frightened  hares.  Just  have 
courage,  and  you  will  be  able  to  dictate  to  these  sheep 
who  shall  be  their  shepherds." 

Many  times,  especially  in  descending  the  mountains, 
occasions  for  bravery  had  presented  themselves,  and 
Etienne  had  shown  that  he  was  not  wanting  in  courage. 
Once,  while  they  were  encamped  at  the  foot  of  the 
Alps  after  a  severe  day's  journey,  a  troop  of  bandits 
dashed  suddenly  upon  the  camp  about  midnight,  over- 


24  GRANDMONT. 

turning  several  of  the  guards  before  the  alarm  had 
sounded.  They  had  penetrated  into  the  middle  of  the 
camp  and  were  attacking  the  comte  when  Etienne,  sword 
in  hand,  rushed  in  among  the  robbers,  dealing  such 
heavy,  telling  blows  that  the  enemy  were  glad  to  retreat. 
This  little  act  of  the  young  vicomte's  raised  him  in  the 
favor  of  the  whole  company,  and  Comte  de  Clermont 
dispatched  a  courier  to  Thiers  describing,  in  exaggerated 
terms,  Etienne's  bravery. 

The  journey  through  Italy  was  rapid,  as  the  roads 
were  good,  and  within  one  month  from  leaving  his 
father's  castle  the  walls  of  Rome  were  greeted  by  his 
expectant  eyes. 

If  the  modern  visitor  to  this  ancient  capital  feels  a 
thrill  as  the  word  "  Roma  "  is  called  out  at  the  railroad 
station,  what  must  have  been  the  sensations  of  one  who 
looked  upon  this  city  not  merely  in  the  light  of  its  an- 
cient greatness,  but  as  the  center  of  art  and  learning  and, 
above  all,  of  religion,  from  which  went  out  spiritual 
teachings  for  the  world.  To  Etienne  the  very  stones 
were  sacred,  and  the  thousand  lessons  that  the  good  old 
bishop,  his  preceptor,  had  impressed  upon  him  now 
swept  over  his  mind  and  made  him  almost  wish  to  kneel 
down  to  kiss  the  soil.  So  many  emotions  filled  his 
breast  that  words  became  too  weak  vehicles  of  ex- 
pression. It  is  true  that  young  De  Thiers  thought  more 
of  the  fathers  than  of  the  Caesars  ;  so  he  had  only  half 
an  ear  for  the  comte's  tales  of  Hannibal,  Cato,  Scipio, 
and  a  thousand  others  whose  names  are  famous  in  the 
annals  of  Rome.  The  boy  kept  his  thoughts  to  him- 
self. 

The  Comte  de  Clermont  at  once  proceeded  to  find 
suitable  lodgings  for  the  party  during  their  stay  in  the 
city.  A  fine  villa  on  the  slope  of  the  Capitoline  was 
rented  ;  here  they  established  themselves  for  the  pres- 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO   ROME.  2$ 

ent.  The  comte  intended  to  stay  two  months  in  Rome  ; 
so  he  made  himself  as  comfortable  as  possible.  Every 
day  Etienne  and  he  visited  some  strange  and  wonderful 
scene  or  saw  some  renowned  monument.  Now  they  stood 
under  the  Arch  of  the  Candlestick,  admiring  the  carving; 
again  they  crossed  the  Tiber  to  mark  the  spot  where 
Horatius  held  the  bridge;  climbed  the  Tarpeian  Rock, 
recalling  its  history ;  visited  the  great  Basilicas  to  gaze 
upon  the  relics  of  a  saint ;  the  ruined  barracks  of  the 
Pretorian  Guards  attracted  their  attention  another  time, 
the  comte  relating  their  story  to  the  young  man,  show- 
ing him  how  the  swords  of  soldiers  had  changed  emper- 
ors. As  the  couple  stood  in  front  of  the  Coliseum  one 
afternoon,  Clermont  exclaimed  : 

"  O,  Etienne  !  Had  we  lived  in  those  days  we  too 
might  have  worn  the  purple.  We  would  have  played 
no  mean  part  in  the  affairs  of  that  time." 

After  pausing  a  moment  he  continued:  "  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  is  better  to  live  now.  In  those  olden  times  poison, 
the  assassin's  knife,  and  gold  played  too  important  a  part 
in  affairs.  The  reward  of  brave  actions  is  as  great  at 
this  period  as  ever.  These  Germans,  though,  must  be 
driven  out.  France  should  furnish  the  sovereign,  and 
not  the  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine." 

Etienne  looked  upon  the  vast  pile,  and  his  vivid 
imagination  pictured,  not  the  magnificent  spectacles  of 
pagan  Rome's  military  victories,  but  the  agonies  and 
tortures  of  the  Christian  martyrs.  He  was  now  behold- 
ing the  place  where  those  intense  sufferings  had  occurred. 
Within  these  walls  wild  beasts  had  been  let  loose  upon 
those  called  Christians.  Upon  these  very  stone  benches 
had  sat  the  crowd  who  applauded  as  limbs  were  torn  off 
and  martyr  blood  spilled  in  the  cruel  savagery  of  those 
distant  days.  Here  the  spirits  of  the  men  and  women 
that  he  called  saints  had  been  caught  up  to  heaven.  Be- 


26  GRANDMONT. 

fore  his  vision  passed  the  real  scene — sights  of  agony 
and  blood,  the  prayers  and  shrieks  of  the  victims,  the 
applause  of  the  audience,  the  mangled  remains,  the 
mourning  relatives — all  this  was  real  to  Etienne.  He 
even  saw  the  angels  hovering  in  the  air  waiting  for 
their  souls.  His  emotional  nature  was  deeply  moved  ; 
his  heart  beat  rapidly  with  excitement ;  his  eyes  were 
suffused,  but  his  tongue  silent.  The  old  comte  looked 
at  the  youth  and  thought  that  those  emotions  which 
were  surging  in  his  breast  were  kindred  to  those  that 
agitated  him  ;  so  he  was  satisfied. 

Two  busy  months  had  already  passed  since  Clermont 
and  Etienne  had  arrived  in  the  holy  city.  Every  mo- 
ment had  been  crowded  with  interest  and  excitement. 
Important  political  events  had  taken  place.  The  comte 
was  on  the  qiii  vive  continually.  His  visit  was  brought 
to  a  sudden  close  by  the  arrival  of  a  courier  from  his 
castle.  The  servant  brought  a  letter  saying  that  Valerie, 
his  only  child,  the  girl  to  whom  Etienne  was  informally 
betrothed,  had  been  stricken  down  with  a  fever,  and  that 
within  three  days  from  the  date  of  the  attack  she  had  suc- 
cumbed. The  anguish  of  the  father's  heart  was  intense. 
All  his  hopes  and  plans  for  the  future  were  dashed  to  the 
ground  in  a  moment  of  time. 

When  the  comte  handed  the  fatal  message  to  Etienne, 
that  boy  joined  his  tears  with  those  of  his  friend.  These 
two  young  people  had  become  quite  attached  to  one 
another  from  being  near  neighbors.  Although  the  cus- 
toms of  the  age  forbade  their  being  much  in  each  other's 
society,  still  Etienne  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
Valerie  was  to  be  his  wife,  and  she  had  looked  forward 
to  greeting  him  as  her  husband  in  deference  to  the  wishes 
of  her  parents. 

If  this  news  thoroughly  upset  the  hopes  of  both  houses, 
the  effect  upon  Etienne  was  certainly  no  less  marked, 


ON  THE   WAY   TO   ROME.  2/ 

and  probably  this  was  the  decisive  event  that  made  him 
a  monk  instead  of  a  soldier. 

Hasty  arrangements  were  made  to  place  the  vicomte 
under  the  best  military  instructors  in  Rome.  He  was, 
however,  to  be  allowed  perfect  freedom  of  action  and  to 
be  master  of  his  time.  With  a  liberal  supply  of  money 
this  young  man  was  left  to  follow  his  own  will,  but  it  was 
expected  that  he  should  devote  the  greater  part  of  the 
day  to  military  pursuits. 

When  the  Comte  de  Clermont  returned  to  his  desolate 
home  in  France,  he  recounted  to  De  Thiers  the  enthusi- 
asm of  Etienne  and  his  delight  at  being  in  Rome,  also 
his  deep  grief  at  the  death  of  Valerie.  He  gave  the 
anxious  father  assurances  that  his  son  would  be  a  great 
honor  to  him.  The  two  parents  mourned  the  sad  fate 
of  Valerie,  that  so  ruthlessly  dashed  to  the  ground  their 
high  hopes  and  expectations. 


28  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN    ELEVENTH   CENTURY    EVANGELIST. 

ETIENNE,  being  left  to  himself,  resolved  to  follow 
his  father's  wishes.  He  gave  himself  to  the  study 
of  military  tactics  and  made  considerable  progress  in  the 
practice  of  arms,  but  it  was  very  distasteful  to  his  inner- 
most nature.  He  preferred  to  linger  around  the  Lat- 
eran,  to  listen  to  the  tales  of  the  priests,  to  have  retold 
the  story  of  the  martyrs,  and  to  picture  the  apostles 
walking  in  the  streets  or  sitting  in  their  prisons.  His 
mind  became  more  and  more  imbued  with  these 
themes.  He  read  carefully  all  the  literature  that  he 
could  find  that  treated  upon  these  subjects. 

His  companions  in  arms  were  very  jovial  fellows. 
They  represented  mostly  young  scions  of  nobility,  who 
came  principally  from  what  is  now  known  as  Austria 
and  Germany  ;  there  were  a  few  Italians  and  French. 
The  Italian  or  Roman  military  art  was  greatly  over- 
rated at  this  epoch.  The  lessons  given  consisted  of 
swordsmanship  and  horsemanship,  while  little  detail  was 
devoted  to  planning  campaigns.  These  brothers  in 
arms  were  anything  but  congenial  companions  to  Eti- 
enne.  He  could  not  enjoy  their  sensual  conversation, 
and  their  oaths  and  impiety  filled  him  with  horror. 
The  brutality  that  he  saw  manifested,  the  delight  in 
shedding  blood,  was  perfectly  abhorrent  to  him.  He 
shrank  from  their  presence  as  one  might  shiver  before  a 
serpent. 

Such  a  state  of  affairs  could  not  long  continue.  In- 
sulted beyond  all  endurance  one  day,  he  accepted  a 


AN  ELEVENTH   CENTURY   EVANGELIST          29 

challenge ,  and,  seizing  a  sword,  stepped  out  to  open 
court  where  he  had  been  defied  and  met  the  msulter. 
His  skillful  passes  and  vigorous  strokes  soon  left  him 
master  of  the  field.  But  when  Etienne  saw  the  blood 
of  his  adversary,  who  was  severely  wounded,  though  by 
no  means  fatally,  he  was  overcome  with  remorse  and 
self-reproach.  His  prompt  action  had  gained  him  a 
standing  for  bravery  among  his  companions,  but  for 
himself  it  was  the  deciding  point  of  his  life.  The 
vicomte  resolved  that  never  again  would  he  be  the 
cause  of  shedding  human  blood.  As  he  knelt  beside 
the  stricken  form  of  his  comrade,  whose  blood  he  tried 
to  stanch,  he  registered  a  vow  that  if  this  man  lived 
he  would  never  lift  his  sword  against  a  fellow-man. 

In  a  few  days  the  wounded  soldier  was  all  right  again, 
but  Etienne  never  revoked  his  vow. 

Not  long  after  the  duel,  while  walking  down  the 
Corso,  Etienne's  attention  was  arrested  by  the  blast  of  a 
trumpet  sounded  by  a  man  dressed  in  the  papal  uni- 
form. Led  by  curiosity,  as  were  hundreds  of  others,  he 
drew  nearer  to  hear  what  news  this  trumpeter  had  to 
tell.  When  the  crowd  was  sufficiently  large,  the  crier 
with  a  loud  voice  said:  "Come,  listen  to  the  holy  monk 
Paulus  !  Angels  have  spoken  to  him,  and  at  the  Lat- 
eran  at  midday  he  will  speak  to  us  of  the  revelation  of 
God."  With  a  long  blast  of  the  trumpet  the  public  crier 
left  for  another  section  of  the  city. 

The  disturbed  mind  of  Etienne,  looking  for  peace 
but  finding  none,  caught  upon  this  chance  announce- 
ment as  something  expressly  for  him.  He  determined 
to  be  a  listener.  It  was  two  hours  before  the  appointed 
time;  so  he  wandered  up  and  down  the  streets  that  had  now 
become  familiar  to  him,  and  rested  a  while  in  his  favorite 
place  for  meditation  (a  nook  in  the  Coliseum),  where  he 
mused  upon  his  past  life  and  all  that  had  happened  to 


3O  GRANDMONT. 

him  since  his  departure  from  Thiers.  Consequently  he 
was  in  a  fit  frame  of  mind  to  be  impressed  with  the 
impassioned  harangue  that  was  awaiting  him  at  the 
Lateran. 

When  Etienne  started  for  the  Basilica,  the  crowd  was 
growing  larger  and  larger  every  moment.  Paulus  was 
known  to  be  a  hermit  monk,  who  had  made  his  home  in 
the  mountains  of  Calabria.  He  had  retired  almost  en- 
tirely from  human  society.  Seven  years  before  his  elo- 
quence had  been  the  talk  of  Rome,  but  he  had  sud- 
denly disappeared,  and  many  strange  stories  were  told 
to  explain  the  cause.  Some  said  that  he  had  been 
abducted  by  the  clergy,  whose  vices  he  exposed  ;  others 
that  he  had  been  seized  with  a  malady.  Then  it  was 
positively  asserted  that  he  had  been  translated  as  Elijah. 
It  was  even  reported  that  a  comet,  resembling  a  chariot 
of  fire,  had  been  seen  by  some  monks  rising  rapidly  in 
the  heavens  the  night  after  Paulus  had  preached  his 
last  sermon,  and  that  it  had  carried  his  body  to  the 
skies. 

Paulus  never  gave  any  account  of  himself,  and  turned 
aside  all  personal  questions  with  the  remark,  "  Seek  to 
know  heavenly  things."  When  this  hermit  appeared  in 
Rome  the  second  time,  it  seemed  to  many  that  he  had 
risen  from  the  dead,  and  the  interest  attached  to  him 
was  intense.  The  Lateran  was  crowded.  The  pope, 
with  his  cardinals,  came  to  assist  at  the  service. 

A  pale,  thin  man,  slightly  above  the  average  height, 
ascended  the  pulpit,  holding  a  crucifix  in  his  hand,  and, 
without  a  word  of  introduction  or  even  a  prayer,  called 
out  in  a  voice  shrill  and  piercing :  "  Prepare  to  meet 
your  God  !  The  day  of  judgment  is  at  hand  !  The 
archangel  is  now  lifting  the  great  trumpet  to  his  lips  to 
sound  the  doom  of  this  world  !  Jesus  is  gathering  his 
legions  for  the  world's  assize !  " 


AN   ELEVENTH  CENTURY  EVANGELIST.          31 

Paulus  was  quivering  with  emotion,  tears  were  run- 
ning in  streams  down  his  cheeks,  his  voice  was  tremu- 
lous, his  eyes  were  like  balls  of  fire,  and  their  glances 
seemed  to  penetrate  like  flashes  of  lightning.  The  whole 
assembly  was  spellbound. 

After  a  pause  of  a  few  seconds,  during  which  his  agi- 
tation seemed  to  increase,  and  almost  convulsed  with 
the  intensity  of  his  feelings,  as  if  about  to  declare  the 
most  stupendous  truth  that  human  ears  could  listen  to, 
he  exclaimed  :  u  Seven  nights  ago,  while  waiting  for 
His  will,  I  saw  the  flames  shoot  out  from  the  earth.  I 
heard  the  cries  of  spirits  too  deep  for  our  tongues  to 
utter.  Then  I  cried,  '  What  meaneth  this,  O  God  ? ' 
The  very  heavens  were  hushed,  the  earth  was  shaken, 
and  the  Almighty  spoke.  'Go  ! '  said  he.  'Tell  those 
who  are  at  Rome  that  the  end  is  come ;  the  torch  is 
lighted  to  burn  up  the  earth  !  '" 

The  monk  paused,  seemingly  to  gather  all  his  strength, 
and  shouted,  "  Repent !  For  the  end  is  at  hand  !  " 

The  effect  of  this  short  harangue  on  the  audience  was 
electric.  Every  soul  was  more  or  less  affected.  Many 
sank  on  their  knees,  expecting  the  final  trump.  Even 
the  pope  was  kneeling.  Etienne  was  perfectly  transfixed 
with  wonder  and  awe. 

Paulus  preached  after  this  for  over  two  hours,  draw- 
ing the  wildest  pictures  that  a  fevered  imagination 
could  depict  of  the  judgment  of  the  earth,  of  the  folly  of 
earthly  things,  and  the  vanities  of  the  world.  The 
thought  that  moved  the  multitude  most  was  the  ap- 
proaching end  of  the  world.  Paulus  withdrew  from 
Rome  that  very  night,  and  was  never  seen  again  in  the 
city. 

The  throng  dispersed  after  the  service,  and  for  sev- 
eral days  nearly  everyone  who  had  heard  the  sermon 
looked  for  the  end.  A  slight  earthquake  shook  the  city 


32  GRANDMONT. 

a  few  days  afterward.  This  impressed  the  population 
greatly,  so  that  the  churches  were  crowded  with  people. 
The  effect  of  the  sermon  upon  Etienne  was  to  make 
him  feel  convinced  that  he  should  turn  more  completely 
from  the  way  that  his  father  had  planned  for  him.  He 
went  from  church  to  church,  hoping  to  hear  something 
more  of  Paulus,  but  all  in  vain.  The  only  information 
h~  could  gain  of  the  hermit  was  that  he  had  been  seen 
hastening  across  the  campagna  in  the  direction  of  Cala- 
bria. 

After  waiting  a  long  time  this  poor  boy  sent  a  serv- 
ant to  his  father's  castle  with  a  company  that  was  re- 
turning into  France,  and  he  started  to  find  the  saint 
.(as  Paulus  was  called),  to  know  whether  he  was  on  earth 
or  not.  What  weary  days  and  months  he  spent  wander- 
ing southward  need  not  be  described.  Urged  on  by  the 
spirit  of  unrest,  the  longing  for  something  he  knew  not 
what,  Etienne  went  hither  and  thither.  One  idea  alone 
led  him  on,  and  that  was  to  find  Paulus. 

Among  the  volcanic  hills  that  rise  upon  the  southern 
part  of  the  Italian  peninsula  Paulus  had  been  wont  to 
dwell,  retiring  as  far  as  possible  from  human  eyes  in 
his  desire  to  live  alone  with  God.  Of  the  many  of 
whom  Etienne  inquired  where  he  could  find  this  wonder- 
ful man  no  one  could  give  him  the  slightest  satisfaction. 
A  vacant  look,  a  shake  of  the  head  were  the  only  an- 
swers to  his  innumerable  questions. 

After  two  years  of  wandering  he  came  upon  a  shep- 
herd one  morning  who  had  led  his  goats  far  beyond  the 
usual  haunts.  In  reply  to  Etienne's  inquiries  about 
Paulus  the  man  told  him  that  he  had  heard  a  voice  or 
voices  somewhere  near.  This  was  good  news.  The 
vicomte  asked  in  what  direction  he  had  heard  the 
sounds.  The  shepherd  could  not  exactly  tell.  So  Eti- 
enne wandered  over  every  mountain,  examined  every 


AN  ELEVENTH  CENTURY  EVANGELIST.          33 

hole  and  cave,  and  was  about  giving  up  the  search  in  de- 
spair. He  sat  down  upon  a  stone  to  rest,  wearied  and 
discouraged.  How  long  Etienne  had  remained  sitting 
there  he  never  knew  ;  but,  waking  from  his  reverie,  he 
saw  a  white  hare  quietly  running  up  the  mountain. 

"  I  will  follow  him,"  said  Etienne  to  himself. 

So  off  he  started,  trying  to  keep  the  animal  in  sight. 
This  led  him  through  a  pathless  forest,  over  peaks  and 
crags,  by  caverns  and  lava  beds,  up  the  steep  side  of 
the  mountain.  There  the  hare  suddenly  disappeared. 
Reaching  the  spot  where  he  had  seen  the  animal  last, 
he  looked  around  disappointedly  for  a  moment,  when,  to 
his  surprise,  he  beheld  a  rude  cross  erected  near  a  cave. 
His  heart  beat  with  expectation  as  he  hastened  toward 
the  place.  The  ground  was  well  worn  by  human  feet, 
but  no  other  signs  of  life  were  visible.  Pausing  for  a 
few  moments,  he  listened  attentively,  while  his  heart 
beat  in  great  thuds  that  almost  burst  his  breast. 
"  How  dare  I  disturb  htm  ? "  Etienne  softly  asked 
himself. 

The  boy  stood  expectantly  awaiting  some  sign  of  life, 
but  no  sound  could  be  heard.  He  coughed,  thinking 
to  attract  attention.  He  made  other  noises,  shouted, 
called  out  the  name  of  Paulus,  but  received  no  an- 
swer. Finally  he  ventured  to  go  a  little  nearer,  so  that 
he  could  see  inside  the  cave.  There  Etienne  beheld  a 
human  form  lying  motionless.  A  horrible  dread  began 
to  steal  over  his  heart.  Approaching  closer  he  listened, 
but  there  was  no  sound  of  breathing.  The  entrance  to 
the  cave  was  so  low  that  one  had  to  stoop  to  enter ; 
and,  as  the  youth  did  so,  he  beheld  the  wan  face  of  the 
long-sought  Paulus. 

Etienne  approached  the  prostrate  form  and  put  his 
hand  upon  his  brow.  It  was  cold.  Tears  gathered  in 
the  vicomte's  eyes,  and  he  would  willingly  have  died 


34  GRANDMONT. 

there.  Looking  around  the  cave,  he  saw  a  piece  of 
parchment,  on  which  were  written  these  words  : 

"  To  the  unknown,  whom  God  shall  guide  to  this 
hidden  cave.  I  bequeath  unto  thee  this  staff,  which  I 
bid  thee  take  and  go  forth  to  the  most  isolated  spot  in 
thy  native  country.  Live  there  alone  until  men  shall  see 
by  thy  good  works  the  power  of  righteousness  and  join 
themselves  to  thee,  so  that  thou  and  they  shall  be  a 
power  for  good  in  this  evil  generation.  There  live  and 
work  until  He  comes.  I  further  command  thee  to  take 
the  rude  cross  that  has  marked  my  earthly  dwelling 
place  for  years  ;  lay  it  on  my  breast  as  I  lie  here  awaiting 
the  resurrection  call.  I  charge  thee  still  to  cover  up 
and  hide  this  cave  and  divulge  its  place  and  secret  to 
no  human  soul.  In  fulfilling  these  my  last  desires,  I 
leave  with  thee  my  choicest  blessing.  Lo,  this  is  writ 
and  signed  with  the  blood  of  Paulus." 

These  words  were  read  and  reread  until  every  one  of 
them  was  burned  into  the  very  brain  and  soul  of  Eti- 
enne.  After  recovering  from  the  first  shock  of  finding 
the  long-sought  man  dead,  he  was  also  dazed  by  the  tes- 
tament of  Paulus.  These  feelings  gradually,  passed  away, 
and  one  of  exultant  joy  enthused  him.  To  think  that 
he,  Etienne  de  Thiers,  was  heir  of  the  saintly  Paulus  ! 

His  first  act  was  to  kneel  on  the  place  where  his  mas- 
ter had  so  often  passed  hours  in  prayer  and  before  God 
to  dedicate  himself  to  the  work.  Then  he  hastened  to 
carry  out  the  directions  about  the  interment.  The  cross 
was  brought  in  and  laid  upon  the  breast  of  the  hermit, 
whose  mortal  remains  were  stretched  upon  the  rocky 
bed  that  it  had  known  so  long  while  in  life.  One  long 
look,  a  silent  prayer,  and  all  that  was  left  of  Paulus  was 
forever  hidden  from  human  eyes.  It  was  but  a  slight 
task  to  roll  stones  enough  to  fill  up  the  entrance  to  this 
little  cave.  Fresh  earth  was  also  placed  over  the  stones, 


AN   ELEVENTH   CENTURY   EVANGELIST.  35 

and  all  made  as  secure  as  possible.  Thus  the  final  abode 
was  effectually  concealed.  Turning  his  back  then  and 
forever  from  the  spot  that  could  never  be  erased  from 
his  memory,  Etienne  hastened  away,  eager  to  begin  the 
work  that  had  been  confided  to  him.  He  returned  im- 
mediately to  Rome,  for  he  well  knew  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  him  to  obtain  the  authority  of  the  holy 
see  before  he  could  commence  his  life  work. 

That  night  he  journeyed  no  further  than  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,   slept  in  the  little  village,  and  started 
toward  Rome  the  next  morning. 
3 


36  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FORSAKING    ALL   THINGS. 

OVER  a  year  had  passed  since  he  had  visited  the  cap- 
ital, and  he  had  been  so  far  outside  of  the  current  of 
events  that  he  little  realized  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  the  Roman  see.  A  weak,  cringing,  subservient 
creature  no  longer  filled  the  papal  chair,  but  Hilde- 
brand,  the  ascetic,  the  immovable,  the  monk,  now  wore 
the  pontifical  insignia  as  Pope  Gregory  the  Seventh. 
Often  had  Etienne  heard  this  man's  name  mentioned, 
and  once  or  twice  had  he  listened  to  his  words  of  power ; 
but,  now  that  he  was  seated  where  the  weak  Benedict 
had  reigned  disgracefully,  Etienne  was  afraid  that  he 
too  might  become  a  victim  of  the  hour.  Little  did  he 
know  the  man  of  iron  who  sat  in  Peter's  seat. 

When  Etienne  reached  Rome,  the  great  tumult  was 
beginning.  The  pope  had  thundered  forth  his  edicts 
against  the  shameless  sins  of  the  clergy.  In  the  eyes  of 
Hildebrand  nothing  seemed  half  so  terrible  as  a  clergy 
given  over  to  lasciviousness.  Etienne  was  rejoiced  at 
the  words  that  he  heard,  and  the  news  so  often  told  him 
impressed  him  with  the  belief  that  the  prayers  of  Paulus 
were  answered,  and  that  Hildebrand  was  to  usher  in 
the  millennium.  But  O,  the  partisanship  that  he  found 
at  Rome !  Never  was  the  enmity  so  bitter.  The  de- 
posed ecclesiastics  and  their  friends  were  seeking  in 
every  possible  way  to  end  the  reign  and  days  of  the  re- 
former. Never  were  such  vituperant  epithets  hurled 
about.  Some  of  the  ablest  men  of  the  times,  such  as 
the  German  clergy,  were  loudly  opposed  to  the  sweep- 


FORSAKING  ALL   THINGS.  37 

ing  reforms  instituted  by  the  new  pope,  and  the  Italian 
priests  were  hiding  under  this  mantle  to  cover  up  their 
revolting  sins.  But  Hildebrand  stood  like  a  rock ; 
bribes,  threats,  and  dazzling  promises  had  no  effect 
upon  "the  pope  with  a  marble  heart."  Some  endeav- 
ored to  bring  about  such  a  revolt  as  should  destroy  him; 
but  still  he  continued  to  hurl  his  anathemas  against 
emperors,  princes,  nobles,  States,  whomsoever  in  his 
opinion  merited  them.  He  was  probably  the  needed 
tonic,  the  antidote  to  the  poison  of  disorder  and  vice 
that  had  crept  in  under  the  sacerdotal  robe. 

Etienne  was  greeted  with  delight  by  some  of  his 
former  acquaintances,  but  he  carefully  shut  himself 
from  observation  as  far  as  possible.  It  was  found  out  in 
some  way  that  he  had  seen  the  holy  Paulus,  and  Hilde- 
brand sent  for  the  young  man  that  he  might  hear  from 
his  own  lips  the  story  of  the  renowned  hermit.  Etienne 
was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  a  sharp-visaged  man, 
rather  small  in  stature,  bearing  in  his  face  the  signs  of 
long  fasts  and  protracted  vigils,  and  having  a  very 
monastic  mien ;  the  very  opposite  of  the  jolly,  round- 
faced  good  livers  who  had  latterly  been  on  the  papal 
throne. 

Hildebrand  was  engaged  in  writing  when  the  young 
man  was  announced,  and  for  several  minutes  after  he 
entered  continued  his  work.  Looking  up  suddenly  at 
the  youth,  he  said,  "Art  thou,  my  son,  the  favored  one 
who  has  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  communion  with  the 
holy  Paulus  ?"  Then,  as  if  speaking  to  himself,  he  con- 
tinued, "Ah,  yes;  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  do  I  remem- 
ber his  tremendous  pictures  of  Christ's  second  coming. 
I  could  almost  see  the  arches  of  heaven  bend,  the  skies 
break,  and  hear  the  wings  of  the  angelic  legions  and 
the  command  of  the  great  archangel ;  but  tell  me,  my 
son,  all  that  thou  hast  seen  and  known  of  this  saint" 


38  GRANDMONT. 

The  words  opened  Etienne's  mouth,  and  beginning  at 
the  very  commencement  he  related  all,  the  keen,  pierc- 
ing eyes  of  Hildebrand  eagerly  watching  the  speaker. 
Often  was  he  interrupted  with  adroit  questions,  aimed 
not  only  to  find  out  all  about  Paulus,  but  also  to  draw 
out  the  young  man  and  see  the  character  that  was  be- 
hind the  frank,  open  face. 

When  the  story  was  ended,  Hildebrand  said,  "  Truly 
he  was  a  saint,  and  may  you,  my  son,  be  like  him." 

"  That  is  my  highest  ambition,"  replied  Etienne;  "  and 
I  have  come  here  to  Rome  to  ask  permission  of  your 
holiness  to  go  off  to  the  wildest,  loneliest,  most  forsaken 
regions  of  my  country,  that  I  may  there  in  solitude  and 
prayer  fit  my  soul  for  God  and  instill  in  as  many  as  may 
come  to  me  the  desire  to  lead  a  life  of  prayer  and 
solitude." 

"  O,  my  son!  Thou  little  knowest  what  thou  wilt  have 
to  forego.  Knowest  thou  not  that  the  times  of  ease,  in- 
dulgence, and  laziness,  such  as  have  marked  the  lives  of 
monks  of  late,  are  now  past ;  that  the  man  who  now  en- 
ters this  holy  state  must  be  ready  to  yield  himself  to 
the  severest  sacrifices,  deny  himself  the  comforts  of  life, 
and  endure  that  hardness  which  will  indeed  make  him 
a  good  soldier  of  the  cross  ? " 

"  I  know,  and  I  rejoice  at  it,"  cried  Etienne.  "  Make 
the  conditions  as  hard  as  thou  wilt ;  take  away  food  al- 
together if  it  seems  good  to  thee  ;  I  will  willingly  starve, 
so  that  I  may  the  sooner  see  Paulus  and  the  Lord." 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  youth  pleased  the  pope.  He 
had  no  wish  to  send  him  off,  for  he  thought  that  such  a 
man  as  he  would  be  just  the  trusty  tool  for  him  to  work 
with  in  Rome  ;  so  he  answered,  "  If  this  is  thy  true  de- 
sire, stay  for  one  month  in  my  household  and  share  my 
diet  with  me." 

Etienne  consented.     The  very  coarsest  of  food  was 


FORSAKING  ALL  THINGS.  41 

prepared,  the  longest  vigils  were  kept,  almost  incessant 
prayers  were  offered,  and  still  the  youth  throughout  the 
month  seemed  happy  and  pleased  at  the  prospect.  At 
the  end  of  the  month  Hildebrand,  thinking  that  the 
young  man  could  be  of  service  to  the  Church  in  the 
plan  that  was  before  him,  drew  up  a  bull  with  his  own 
hand,  in  which  he  spoke  of  the  son  of  Thiers  as  one  of 
the  most  pious  and  exemplary  men  of  the  age.  The  bull 
excepted  him  and  his  monastery  from  all  ecclesiastical 
authority  except  that  of  the  pope  himself. 

After  many  prayers  and  blessings  the  future  monk  set 
out  for  his  old  home.  He  was  bound  to  go  to  Thiers 
and  ask  his  parents'  blessing  before  he  should  take  up 
the  monastic  life.  So,  with  only  his  staff,  sacred  from 
its  association  with  Paulus,  he  commenced  his  journey. 
Never  did  a  bridegroom  look  forward  to  such  happi- 
ness as  that  with  which  this  youth  anticipated  the  priva- 
tions, solitude,  and  austerity  of  a  monastic  life.  Living 
on  the  herbs  gathered  by  the  way,  with  some  fruit  that 
now  and  then  a  peasant  offered  to  him,  he  reached 
Thiers,  his  father's  castle,  after  a  journey  of  several 
weeks.  As  from  a  summit  he  beheld  the  familiar  out- 
line ;  as  the  old  playground  of  himself  and  his  sisters 
greeted  his  eye  ;  as  on  nearer  approach  he  beheld  his 
mother  giving  directions  to  the  gardener  who  was  water- 
ing some  flowers ;  as  his  sisters,  grown  now  to  be 
beautiful  young  ladies,  were  seen  passing  to  and  fro, 
the  memories  of  his  childhood  and  youth — his  famil- 
iarity with  all  these  scenes  came  with  such  a  rush  over 
his  soul  that  his  heart  beat  furiously,  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  unconsciously  he  hastened  his  foot- 
steps until  the  portcullis  was  reached,  the  castle  en- 
tered, and  his  mother  and  sisters  were  hanging  on  his 
neck  weeping  out  their  joyous  welcome.  The  warm  heart 
of  the  son  and  brother  was  so  moved  that  his  tears 


42  GRANDMONT. 

joined  theirs.  O,  Etienne,  that  fair  speech  that  you 
had  framed ;  that  distant  greeting  that  you  intended  to 
give  your  fond  relatives,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  am  yours  no 
longer ;  "  that  program  you  had  so  carefully  arranged 
— what  havoc  did  your  mother's  and  sisters'  kisses  play 
with  them  all !  After  all,  a  human  heart  requires  much 
to  change  it  into  steel. 

Old  Lazarus,  who  heard  the  news  of  the  son's  arrival, 
was  sounding  the  clarion,  and  all  the  servants  of  the 
household  hastened  to  do  their  obeisance  to  the  young 
Count  of  Thiers.  The  old  count  was  so  proud  that, 
after  giving  two  or  three  hearty  slaps  on  the  back  of  his 
son  and  saying,  4i  Well,  I  cannot  speak  much  for  your 
retinue,"  he  danced  off  and  ordered  the  servants  to  pre- 
pare the  great  dinner  of  the  year.  Not  much  time  was 
allowed  ;  but  there  was  always  enough  in  the  count's 
larders  to  serve  a  king,  and  great  haste  was  made  in 
getting  it  ready.  Etienne's  mother  said,  "  Your  cham- 
ber, my  dear  son,  is  as  you  left  it.  Go  there,  wash 
away  the  signs  of  travel,  and  take  a  little  rest." 

How  glad  was  Etienne  to  retreat  even  from  those 
loving  hearts  !  In  that  little  chamber,  to  which  he  had 
bidden  farewell  years  before  ere  he  took  his  journey  to 
Rome,  where  he  had  expected  to  win  renown,  he  now 
found  himself  alone  once  more.  What  changes  since 
then — in  himself  most  of  all !  Now  his  fortune  was  to 
consist  in  nothingness  ;  his  one  hope  to  live  alone  in  a 
quiet  company  of  his  fellows,  and  there  wait  for  God  to 
take  them.  As  he  knelt  down,  the  staff  of  Paulus  fell 
against  him,  and,  interpreting  it  as  a  reminder  of  his 
vow,  he  implored  forgiveness  for  his  weakness  and  re- 
solved not  to  spend  one  night  beneath  his  father's  roof, 
since  he  was  sure  that  he  could  not  trust  himself. 
Thrice  was  he  called  before  he  would  descend  to  din- 
ner. He  went  down  a  changed  man.  With  those  tears 


FORSAKING  ALL   THINGS.  43 

had  gone  out  all  tender  feelings,  and  with  them  departed 
the  warm  affection  of  youth  and  childhood.  With  that 
determined  look  he  had  shut  his  heart  to  those  kindlier 
sentiments  that  kindle  the  fires  of  sweet  affection  in  the 
human  heart.  The  bath  had  been  molten  steel  that 
made  him  lose  all  feeling  and  become  as  hard  to  natural 
affections  as  a  stone. 

Awaiting  him  as  he  descended  was  his  mother  on  one 
side  and  elder  sister  on  the  other,  who  were  ready  each 
to  take  an  arm  and  escort  him  to  the  seat  of  honor  ; 
but,  holding  the  cross  before  his  face  in  both  hands,  he 
warned  them  both  away.  The  father,  who  was  at  the 
table,  was  calling  loudly  to  all  to  sit  down,  as  the  roast 
sheep  would  be  ruined,  the  different  dishes  would  be 
cold,  and  the  dinner  spoiled.  He  had  not  seen  the 
young  man's  act  nor  noticed  the  mother's  tears.  Eti- 
enne,  who  was  so  accustomed  to  obey  when  at  the 
castle,  involuntarily  took  his  usual  seat,  which  was  now 
surrounded  by  flowers  plucked  by  his  sisters  in  honor  of 
his  return.  Hardly  had  he  seated  himself  before  the 
huge  trenchers  were  brought  in  and  the  meats  served 
and  large  portions  of  wine  poured  out  for  all.  Etienne 
was  too  dazed  to  say  anything  for  a  moment.  Every- 
thing went  just  opposite  to  what  he  expected.  But  as 
he  touched  neither  meat  nor  wine,  his  father,  who  had 
partaken  freely  of  both,  paused  for  a  moment  to  call 
out :  "  What !  a  Thiers  without  an  appetite !  Eat,  my 
boy."  "  Here  is  to  the  return  of  the  future  Count  of 
Thiers !  "  cried  the  nobleman,  who  had  already  drained 
two  large  cups  of  wine. 

All  of  the  family  seized  their  cups  to  drink,  but  still 
Etienne's  remained  untasted.  He  felt  his  head  turn- 
ing— the  steel,  would  it  break  ?  No.  He  arose  in  his 
place  and,  taking  up  his  cross,  said  :  "  Father — so  I  call 
you  for  the  last  time.  Mother  and  sisters — so  you  are, 


44  GRANDMONT. 

but  will  cease  to  be  forever  !  "  Then  he  repeated  his 
vow  to  renounce  the  world,  read  the  bull  of  the  pope, 
and  declared  his  intention  to  become  a  monk  and  found 
a  monastery. 

Long  before  he  finished  the  mother  and  sisters  were 
choking  with  sobs,  and  the  old  count,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  command  rather  than  obey,  cried  :  "  Hush, 
hush,  boy !  Thy  sickness  has  turned  thy  head.  Drink 
this  wine,  and  we  will  talk  over  the  vows  to- 
morrow !  "  But,  no.  Then  and  there  Etienne  de- 
clared his  purpose,  and  insisted  on  having  his  plan 
carried  out. 

The  feast  of  joy  was  turned  into  one  of  great  sad- 
ness; all  pleasure  was  gone.  Etienne  tasted  only  of 
the  coarse  vegetables  that  were  on  the  table,  and  after 
declaring  that  he  would  never  be  a  Count  of  Thiers,  to 
wear  gay  garments  and  seek  pleasure,  he  went  forth 
clad  in  monkish  brown,  bareheaded  and  barefooted,  that 
summer  night  from  his  father's  castle,  without  even  a 
farewell  kiss  from  his  mother  and  sisters — out  to  that 
hard,  lonely  life  which  he  had  chosen. 

But  Etienne  was  happy.  The  prayers  and  tears  of 
his  mother  and  the  threats  of  his  father  only  made  him 
more  determined  than  ever.  He  left  the  old  home  at 
the  midnight  hour,  not  having  where  to  lay  his  head, 
feeling  as  he  went  an  ecstasy  of  exultation  that  often 
comes  to  one  who  has  accomplished  an  important  and 
difficult  task. 

Etienne  took  a  westerly  course  from  his  father's  cas- 
tle, and  after  wandering  about  for  some  time  addressed 
himself  to  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  and  desired  to  know 
where  the  "  wildest,  loneliest,  most  abandoned  part  of 
his  diocese  was  in  order  that  he  might  there  found  his 
monastic  order."  He  was  received  with  distinction,  and 
the  bishop  pointed  him  to  that  rough,  uncultivated, 


FORSAKING  ALL  THINGS.  45 

mountainous  tract  where  the  snows  of  winter  love  to 
linger,  where  the  storms  sweep  with  their  wildest  fury, 
and  which  is  the  least  inhabitable  of  all  the  sterile  hills 
of  the  Haute- Vienne.  Etienne  was  told  that  there  he 
would  be  the  farthest  from  human  intercourse,  and 
thither  he  went,  taking  with  him  only  the  sacred  staff 
of  Paulus. 

His  first  home  was  in  a  little  cave  hollowed  by  his 
own  hands.  His  strange  words  and  stranger  life  pre- 
sented its  attractions  to  many,  and  not  a  few  men  left 
all  and  came  to  join  him  in  his  solitude.  The  rules  of 
his  humble  monastery  were  most  rigid.  For  six  months 
of  the  year  no  meat  was  to  be  eaten  ;  much  of  the  time 
but  one  scanty  meal  was  allowed  daily  ;  seven  times 
within  the  twenty-four  hours  were  the  brothers  to  as- 
semble to  pray  and  praise  God ;  the  pleasures  of  inter- 
course with  the  world  were  forbidden,  and  the  monks 
were  to  live  from  day  to  day  on  just  what  the  Lord 
should  send ;  all  property  was  to  be  held  in  common, 
and  all  that  was  not  necessary  for  immediate  need 
was  to  be  given  to  the  poor;  the  whole  life  was  to 
be  spent,  as  much  as  possible,  in  prayer  and  con- 
templation. Truly  not  a  very  enticing  offer  for  men 
in  general !  Yet  there  were  those  who  were  very  glad 
of  this  opportunity  to  escape  the  cares  and  burdens  of 
the  world. 

Even  such  a  life  as  this,  austere  and  self-sacrificing, 
has  its  attractions.  The  mass  of  men  are  looking  for 
happiness  ;  they  think  it  must  be  where  they  are  not ;  so 
they  are  willing  to  fly  anywhere  to  escape  from  what 
they  then  suffer.  But  especially  at  that  time  the  world 
was  impressed  with  the  fact  that  the  end  of  all  things 
was  at  hand.  Ignorance  and  superstition  ruled  the  land, 
and  men  were  carried  away  by  bright  pictures  of  para- 
dise and  frightened  by  vivid  descriptions  of  a  material 


46  GRANDMONT. 

hell,  with  endless  fire  and  brimstone.  The  higher  and 
intellectual  part  of  man's  nature  was  little  appealed  to, 
and  these  strange  fancies  frequently  took  complete  pos- 
session of  men,  perhaps  often  the  result  of  a  diseased 
mind,  and  in  almost  every  case  the  outcome  of  errone- 
ous views  of  man's  relation  to  God. 


A   STURDY   MONK.  47 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A      STURDY      MONK. 

AMONG  the  most  famous  of  all  Etienne's  followers  in 
his  mountain  retreat  was  Hugues  de  Lacerta,the  lord 
of  the  famous  castle  of  Chalus,  in  the  wanton  siege  of 
which  a  century  later  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  lost  his  life. 
Of  all  the  characters  that  abounded  in  the  closing  dec- 
ades of  the  eleventh  century  one  is  hardly  to  be  found 
more  unique  in  all  of  its  make-up  than  this  Hugues. 
The  Lord  of  Chalus  was  of  gigantic  stature,  his  strength 
was  in  proportion  to  his  size,  and  the  renown  of  his 
arms  was  extended  all  over  France.  Whoever  met  him 
in  battle  respected  him,  and  well  he  might,  for  the  vigor 
with  which  his  right  hand  could  wield  a  battleax  or 
swing  a  sword  was  a  marvel  to  all  beholders,  as  well  as 
a  death-dealing  power  to  all  his  enemies.  He  bore  the 
name  of  being  a  hard,  rough,  unprincipled  man.  He 
counted  all  his  vassals  and  dependents  as  so  many  slaves, 
and  took  whatever  he  wanted.  No  female  in  all  his  do- 
main ever  thought  of  marrying  without  first  consulting 
him,  and  the  men  were  like  so  many  whipped  curs  in 
his  presence.  When  not  engaged  in  battles,  which  oc- 
cupied the  greater  part  of  the  year,  he  spent  the  time  in 
hunting  and  in  wild  orgies  that  would  have  disgraced  a 
pagan  sacrifice.  But  in  answer  to  all  that  was  said  to 
him  he  replied,  "  Have  I  not  a  right  to  do  what  I  will 
with  my  own  ?  If  anyone  says  no,  let  him  meet  me  with 
the  battleax  in  the  open  court."  This  answer  effectually 
silenced  all  objections. 


48  GRANDMONT. 

One  day,  when  a  company  of  monks  came  to  rebuke 
him  for  some  act  of  cruelty  which  he  had  performed,  he 
took  them  one  by  one  out  into  his  court  and  stripped 
them  of  their  robes  and  administered  corporal  punish- 
ment in  the  same  way  that  parents  used  to  do  to  their 
children  in  the  good  old  days.  And  so  he  sent  them 
off,  telling  them  to  come  back  when  they  had  learned 
better  manners. 

In  this  rough  style  he  had  lived  for  years ;  but  one 
day  there  came  along  a  monk  who  had  been  to  the 
Holy  Land,  and  as  Hugues  always  kept  an  open  house 
and  a  hospitable  table,  the  monk  found  it  convenient 
to  rest  there.  At  the  table  he  related  the  strange  sights 
and  scenes  of  that  land  of  Palestine;  told  of  the  sacred 
places,  of  the  pleasure  of  worshiping  where  the  Son  of 
God  himself  had  lived,  preached,  bled,  and  died.  He 
spoke  in  such  a  way  that  Hugues  said,  "  I  will  go  to  the 
Holy  Land  myself." 

Now,  when  the  Lord  of  Chalus  decided  to  do  a  thing, 
everything  else  had  to  give  way.  After  leaving  the  af- 
fairs of  the  castle  in  the  hands  of  those  whom  he  con- 
sidered competent  parties,  Hugues  started  in  company 
with  this  monk,  with  whom  he  made  this  contract  before 
starting  :  "You  shall  do  all  the  necessary  praying,  and  I 
will  do  all  the  fighting ;  "  for  his  motto  was  "  Every  man  to 
his  work,"  and  his  work  was  with  the  broadsword.  The 
two  journeyed  along,  and  the  monk,  who  was  a  shrewd 
fellow,  saw  how  to  win  the  better  nature  of  Hugues,  and 
they  became  fast  and  inseparable  friends.  The  journey 
was  made  mostly  on  foot,  and  took  a  long  time.  On  the 
way  they  met  other  travelers  variously  bound,  and  the 
incidents  of  travel  in  those  days  were  passing  strange. 

It  happened  one  time  that  they  overtook  two  German 
monks  going  the  same  way,  and  it  was  only  natural  for 
the  ecclesiastics  to  fall  to  discussing  the  questions  that 


A  STURDY   MONK.  49 

were  filling  the  minds  of  all  Europe ;  and  at  the  time  of 
Hildebrand  the  great  question  was  as  to  whether  the 
pope  had  a  right  to  interfere  in  matters  of  state  and 
unseat  kings  and  emperors,  and  be,  indeed,  the  active 
agent  of  the  Most  High  on  earth.  The  Germans  natu- 
rally defended  the  position  of  their  own  countrymen, 
who  bitterly  opposed  what  they  called  the  outside  in- 
terference of  anybody  in  matters  of  state.  The  friend 
of  Hugues  was  a  warm  partisan  of  the  pope,  and  de- 
fended his  cause  as  well  as  he  could,  but  he  was  unable 
to  meet  the  logic  of  his  opponents.  As  he  was  retiring 
in  disgust  from  the  argument,  Hugues,  who  had  taken 
no  part  in  the  word-conflict,  now  stepped  forward  and 
seized  each  German  by  his  robe  and  shook  them  very 
savagely,  threatening  to  dash  their  brains  out  on  the 
spot  unless  they  conceded  that  his  friend  was  in  the 
right.  Both  acquiesced  under  the  persuasive  power  of 
muscle  and  acknowledged  their  error.  They  both  were 
extremely  silent  after  this  and  answered  in  monosylla- 
bles, always  taking  good  care  to  keep  on  the  side  of  the 
road  farthest  from  Hugues.  When  the  monk,  with 
Hugues,  awoke  the  next  morning,  their  Teutonic  friends 
were  missing,  as  they  did  not  care  to  again  enter  into 
another  such  argument. 

Hugues  was  incapable  of  fear ;  robbers,  bandits,  and 
outlaws  of  every  kind  who  beset  the  way  gave  him  a 
free  road  ;  even  the  Mussulman  authorities,  who  now 
and  then  came  in  contact  with  him,  gave  in  and  yielded 
him  privileges  unknown  to  others ;  all  of  which  he  en- 
joyed with  the  monk.  But  still  the  Frank  lord  would 
lead  his  merry  life.  The  monk  did  not  dare  rebuke  his 
escort,  and  so  Hugues  had  things  pretty  much  his  own 
way.  The  sacred  places  did  not  appeal  very  strongly 
to  him.  He  thought  much  more  of  the  harems  than  he 
did  of  Jerusalem  and  its  memories.  He  became  quite 


50  GRANDMONT. 

intimate  with  some  of  the  authorities,  and  went  out  with 
a  sheik  on  some  of  his  war  expeditions,  where  he  con- 
ducted himself  with  such  ability  that  he  won  the  praises 
of  the  Saracen  leaders,  who  offered  him  a  high  position 
if  he  would  become  a  Mohammedan  and  enter  their 
army.  Hugues  was  stubborn  and  would  not  yield.  He 
conceded  that  the  manner  of  living  after  the  Eastern 
style  pleased  him  much  better  than  the  Christian,  but  he 
would  wait  until  his  second  visit  before  deciding. 

The  monk  who  accompanied  Hugues  was  stricken 
with  fever  and  died.  This  deeply  impressed  his  lord- 
ship, and  finding  that  a  ship  was  soon  to  sail  from  Jaffa 
to  France  he  embarked,  and  after  a  two  years'  absence 
reappeared  at  his  castle  almost  as  suddenly  as  he  had 
left  it.  He  found  everything  in  good  order.  There  was 
no  war  going  on  and  nothing  that  served  to  break  his 
ennui.  He  learned,  shortly  after  his  arrival,  of  the 
foundation  of  the  new  religious  order  at  Grandmont, 
and  hastened  to  see  Etienne.  When  he  beheld  the  man 
whom  everybody  revered  as  a  saint,  and  when  he  ob- 
served the  lives  which  his  followers  led,  he  was  seized 
with  the  desire  to  become  a  monk.  Immediately  he  ap- 
plied to  Etienne,  who  with  unmistakable  surprise  said, 
"  O,  no ;  impossible.  We  cannot  receive  a  man  like  you. 
This  is  a  place  for  only  those  who  intend  to  lead  holy 
lives.  You  would  not  be  at  home  here  half  a  day." 

Hugues  pleaded  most  earnestly.  It  was  not  for  the  Lord 
of  Chalus  to  be  refused,  and  he  presented  his  reasons  ; 
but  they  did  not  appeal  to  Etienne,  who  said  :  "  Go 
away,  go  away ;  it  is  the  devil  that  seeks  to  break  up  our 
order  through  you." 

"  O,  holy  man  !  O,  holy  man  !  "  cried  Hugues  in  an- 
guish. "  I  will  go  away,  as  you  have  said ;  but  I  go  to 
commit  all  kinds  of  sin,  to  lead  the  most  evil  life  that  I 
can,  and  I  throw  all  the  blame  upon  you  who  have  de- 


A  STURDY   MONK.  51 

nied  me  an  asylum  in  this  refuge.  Therefore  lose  not 
one  moment,  but  pray  unceasingly  night  and  day  as  long 
as  you  live,  for  you  will  need  all  the  prayers  to  pardon 
all  of  the  sins  that  I  intend  to  commit  in  your  name 
for  refusing  me  the  refuge  of  this  holy  place." 

Etienne  was  struck  with  horror  at  this  speech.  He 
called  to  the  retreating  lord  and  told  him  all  that  he 
would  have  to  submit  to  in  order  to  become  a  brother 
monk.  He  pictured  in  the  most  austere  terms  possible 
the  kind  of  life  that  he  would  have  to  lead  and  all  of 
the  self-denials  that  he  would  have  to  undergo  if  he 
entered  that  monastery,  of  his  having  to  rise  for  mid- 
night prayers,  of  the  rule  to  walk  around  the  cemetery 
three  times  a  day  in  order  to  fulfill  the  requirements  of 
the  order.  This  he  said  in  order  to  affright  the  re- 
nowned lord  with  the  tale  of  long  fasts,  endless 
prayers,  deprivations,  sacrifices,  severe  hardships,  confes- 
sions, and  all  his  loneliness  and  sufferings.  But  all  in 
vain.  Hugues  replied,  "Were  the  conditions  a  hun- 
dred times  harder,  I  would  gladly  accept  them." 

There  was  nothing  else  for  Etienne  to  do  but  accept 
him  then  and  there.  Not  even  waiting  to  make  differ- 
ent arrangements  for  his  castle,  he  immediately  upon 
his  bare  knees  took  the  irrevocable  vows,  and  then 
donned  the  coarse  yellowish-brown  habit  of  the  order. 
The  attention  of  the  little  fraternity  was  called  to  the 
newcomer,  and  all  looked  upon  him  with  doubt  and 
suspicion,  for  it  seemed  incredible  that  a  man  who  had 
led  such  a  wild,  savage,  and  wicked  life  could  settle 
down  and  become  a  plain,  simple,  obedient  monk. 
Time,  that  unflinching  witness  whose  unfailing  memory 
brings  out  whatever  is  hidden  in  men,  proved  that 
among  all  the  followers  of  Etienne — and  all  were, 
noted  for  their  piety,  charity,  and  virtue — not  one  ex- 
celled Hugues  de  Lacerta,  the  Lord  of  Chalus.  He 


52  GRANDMONT. 

was  as  speedy  in  winning  a  reputation  for  piety  as  he 
had  been  in  arms,  and  soon  the  whole  region  was  filled 
with  the  change  that  had  taken  place.  It  seemed  like  a 
repetition  of  the  miracle  of  Gadara,  when  so  many  devils 
were  cast  out  of  a  man. 

The  life  at  the  monastery  received  a  new  impulse 
from  the  accession  of  Hugues.  Some  strange  things 
happened.  For  instance,  the  long  fastings  and  priva- 
tions of  Etienne  had  so  reduced  his  strength  that  more 
nourishment  had  to  be  given  to  him.  The  Lord  of 
Cocu  had  placed  several  cows  in  an  inclosure  some 
little  distance  from  the  retreat  of  Etienne,  and  had  sent 
word  to  him  that  he  must  see  that  those  cows  were 
milked  and  that  the  milk  must  be  used  in  the  monas- 
tery. It  was  this  that  nourished  Etienne.  For  several 
mornings  and  nights,  about  a  month  after  the  advent  of 
Hugues  among  the  brethren,  the  persons  sent  to  the 
pasture  came  back  with  no  milk,  saying  that  the  monks 
from  Ambazac,  a  Benedictine  settlement,  had  anticipated 
them  and  milked  the  cows  before  them.  Hugues  volun- 
teered to  do  the  milking  next  day,  and  though  some  of 
the  brothers  volunteered  to  accompany  him,  he  pre- 
ferred to  go  alone.  Starting  rather  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, he  found  one  of  the  Benedictines  milking  one  of 
Etienne's  cows.  He  walked  up  to  the  intruder  and  said, 
"  That  milk  belongs  to  my  master."  But  the  monk 
sneeringly  said  :  "  Let  him  ask  the  pope  to  send  him  a 
cow,  and  send  Hugues  de  Lacerta  to  bring  it.  I  Avill 
take  the  milk  for  our  monastery,  which  has  the  prior 
right  here  and  claims  all  of  the  gifts." 

He  had  said  enough.  Before  another  word  could  be 
uttered,  he  was  seized  by  the  neck  and  shoulders  and 
shaken  until  every  bone  in  his  body  seemed  to  crack, 
carried  to  the  side  of  the  wall  that  served  as  an  inclo- 
sure, and  tossed  over  with  as  little  consideration  as  if  he 


A   STURDY   MONK.  53 

had  been  a  bag  of  potatoes.  He  cried:  "I  am  killed!  I 
am  killed !  That  robber  from  Chalus  has  nearly  taken 
my  life  ! "  Several  of  his  brethren  who  were  near  by 
rushed  out,  found  him  in  a  heap,  and  listened  to  his 
story.  They  looked  over  the  wall,  and  there  sat 
Hugues  complacently  milking  the  cows,  as  if  he  had 
only  been  a  boy  playing  leapfrog. 

The  Benedictines  determined  to  chasten  well  the  fol- 
lower of  Etienne.  They  knew  that  one  of  the  things 
that  Etienne  made  his  followers  do  was  not  to  return 
blows  for  blows,  but  to  suffer  meekly  under  any  imposi- 
tion that  was  laid  upon  them.  Thus  Etienne,  when  the 
monks  had  returned  with  empty  jars,  had  said :  "  Never 
mind,  it  is  all  for  the  best.  '  Rather  suffer  wrong  than  do 
wrong.'  Perhaps  they  have  more  need  of  the  milk  than 
we."  And  with  these  pious  words  he  sought  to  console 
his  followers.  The  Benedictines  knew  this,  and  im- 
posed upon  the  goodness  of  Etienne.  Therefore  half  a 
dozen  with  sticks  set  upon  Hugues  to  belabor  him  well, 
thinking  that  the  beating  would  all  be  on  one  side  ; 
but  not  more  than  the  first  blow  was  dealt  before 
Hugues  wrenched  the  club  from  the  hand  of  one  of  the 
aggressors,  who  were  like  so  many  babes  in  his  hands, 
and  gave  them  all  such  a  hearty  beating  that  they  re- 
treated in  agony  to  their  monastery,  determined  to  wreak 
their  vengeance  upon  Hugues  in  some  other  way.  After 
this  the  cows  of  Etienne  were  never  molested,  and  the 
Benedictines  dared  not  complain  of  the  usage  they  had 
received,  for  that  would  be  an  open  confession  of  their 
theft.  So  they  had  to  nurse  their  wrath  until  such  a  time 
as  they  could  be  revenged  upon  Hugues. 
4 


54  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CONVERSION  OF  REUBEN  AND  NAPHTALI. 

THE  refining  and  ennobling  influence  of  Etienne  on 
Hugues  worked  a  complete  and  wonderful  change 
in  his  character.  He  was  one  of  those  decided  men 
who,  when  they  undertake  a  thing,  carry  it  to  the  end. 
There  are  millions  of  such  men  in  the  world,  and  they 
only  need  tne  proper  direction.  Said  a  reformed  thief 
some  time  ago,  "  Had  I  spent  half  the  time  in  some  use- 
ful trade  and  employed  as  a  blacksmith's  apprentice  the 
ability  that  was  necessary  to  successfully  crack  a  bank, 
I  would  have  won  easily  a  fine  position  and  wealth." 
Many  a  bandit  and  highwayman  shows  the  courage 
which  would  win  him  high  grade  in  the  army. 

Thus  it  was  with  this  same  Lord  Hugues  of  Chalus, 
who  had  defied  the  neighboring  seigniors  and  had  been 
a  living  terror  to  their  armies  in  times  past  ;  he  now 
became  the  most  honored  and  trusted  monk  in  the 
whole  brotherhood  of  Grandmont.  The  same  charac- 
teristics won  him  distinction  either  as  a  marauder  or  a 
monk.  He  could  not  be  insignificant  if  he  tried.  With- 
in three  months  from  the  time  that  he  had  entered  the 
monastery  he  had  the  confidence  of  the  brotherhood, 
and  Etienne  leaned  on  him  as  a  most  faithful  counselor 
and  friend.  Never  was  that  trust  misplaced,  nor  was 
Hugues  false  to  what  was  committed  to  him. 

It  was  about  six  months  or  so  after  Hugues  had  en- 
tered the  monastery  that  Etienne  had  occasion  to  send 
a  message  to  the  Lord  of  Dorat.  On  all  such  errands 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  send  Hugues,  as  he  not  only 


CONVERSION   OF   REUBEN   AND   NAPHTALT.      55 

went  alone,  but  he  always  did  well  whatever  his  master 
commissioned  him  to  do.  At  this  time  the  roads  and 
highways  of  France  were  infested  with  robbers  and 
highwaymen,  who  made  their  living  as  beasts  of  prey  by 
devouring  any  human  booty  that  fell  in  their  path. 
True,  a  poor  traveling  monk,  with  no  luggage  whatso- 
ever, could  not  offer  any  attraction  except  to  cannibals ; 
but  the  monk  was  the  vehicle  that  often  carried  great 
treasures  from  one  place  to  another,  so  that  the  amounts 
realized  by  attacking  them  were  sometimes  more  than 
might  ordinarily  be  expected.  As  a  rule,  however, 
these  individuals  were  let  entirely  alone  by  the  lawless 
class,  as  it  was  a  very  serious  offense  to  molest  them.  Be- 
sides, if  it  happened  that  matters  turned  to  the  worst, 
and  in  the  conflict  they  came  off  with  a  broken  skull  or 
were  captured  and  were  condemned  to  the  gibbet,  one 
of  these  "  black  frocks,"  as  they  were  called,  would  be 
needed  to  fit  the  soul  for  that  unknown  place  hereafter 
called  heaven,  which  they  superstitiously  believed  could 
never  be  reached  without  his  aid.  The  fairest  prey  was 
the  knight,  who  went  forth  generally  equipped  with  not 
only  good  weapons,  a  good  horse,  and  coat  of  mail,  but 
also  with  some  gold.  He  was  a  prize  worth  running  many 
risks. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  Lord  of  Dorat  had  gone 
out  for  a  short  trip,  and  the  forests  that  covered  a 
good  part  of  the  Duke  of  Bern's  estate  and  skirted  the 
highway  for  miles  were  a  perfect  rendezvous  for 
these  wild,  lawless  creatures.  There  were  two  high- 
waymen, who  for  want  of  better  names  were  afterward 
christened  Reuben  and  Naphtali  by  Hugues,  who  had 
become  famous  for  their  murders  and  other  crimes  that 
they  had  committed.  These  two  men  had  seen  from 
a  long  distance  the  Lord  of  Dorat  riding  along  the 
highway.  They  resolved  upon  his  capture,  but,  as  they 


56  GRANDMONT. 

were  on  foot  and  the  lord  on  horseback,  it  did  not  look 
very  promising  for  the  robbers.  A  bright  idea  struck 
one,  however,  and  that  was  this  ;  They  should  take  a 
rope  and  fasten  one  end  to  a  tree,  and  when  the  lord 
should  come  galloping  past,  that  one  should  suddenly 
run  across  the  road  just  ahead  of  the  horse,  and  hold 
the  rope  so  high  that  it  would  throw  the  horse  and  the 
rider,  and  thus  put  the  lord  and  the  thieves  on  an 
equal  footing  for  fighting.  The  plan  was  a  perfect  suc- 
cess. The  horse  was  thrown,  and  before  the  rider  could 
recover  himself  he  was  disarmed,  his  sword  was  taken 
away,  and  he  himself,  after  a  slight  attempt  at  defense, 
securely  bound.  This  happened  on  the  very  road  that 
Hugues  was  traveling  and  at  the  moment  he  was  pass- 
ing. The  audacity  of  the  thing  interested  him  very  much, 
and  when  he  saw  the  lord  abused  and  bound  and  be- 
held the  rogues  deliberately  proceeding  to  strip  him  of  all 
that  he  had,  he  thought  it  was  time  to  interfere.  He 
had  no  weapon  in  his  hand,  excepting  a  heavy  gnarled 
staff  such  as  he  always  took  with  him,  and  although  the 
robbers  were  well  armed  with  swords  and  bucklers, 
Hugues  determined  to  see  justice  done  in  his  own  way. 
The  rascals  had  taken  no  notice  of  Hugues,  and  were 
now  eagerly  dividing  their  spoils,  which  were  spread 
out  upon  the  ground  before  them.  Meanwhile  they  were 
sharing  the  contents  of  a  leathern  bottle  of  wine  which 
the  lord  had  brought  to  quench  his  thirst  on  the  journey. 

Hugues  approached  the  two,  and  stood  a  moment 
unnoticed.  Then  in  a  firm  tone  he  said  to  the  brigands, 
"  Give  back  this  man's  things,  and  repent." 

The  two  fellows  laughed  and  thought  it  a  good  joke 
that  the  monk  was  playing.  Awaiting  a  few  minutes 
more,  he  repeated  his  remark  : 

"  I  tell  you,  give  back  to  the  lord  the  property  you 
have  taken  from  him." 


CONVERSION  OF  REUBEN  AND  NAPHTALI.  57 

The  only  answer  was,  "  That  black-frocked  ass 
brays  as  if  he  was  our  master." 

Waiting  a  little  longer,  Hugues  said,  "  For  the  last 
time  I  bid  you  restore  that  man  the  goods  you  have 
taken  from  him." 

"  By  the  saints,"  exclaimed  one  of  them,  "  the  fool  is 
in  earnest;  "and  he  made  a  motion  as  if  to  grasp  his 
sword,  but  Hugues  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  a  sharp 
blow  from  his  staff,  falling  with  a  giant's  strength  just  be- 
hind his  ear,  left  the  thief  unconscious  for  awhile. 

"  What !  You  want  to  fight  ?  "  exclaimed  the  other, 
making  an  effort  to  rise ;  but  he  too  was  met  by  the 
club  of  Hugues  and  left  sprawling  on  the  ground. 

Not  quite  satisfied  yet,  Hugues  administered  a  couple 
or  more  blows  apiece  where  they  would  do  the  most 
good.  Then,  untying  the  long  coarse  rope  that  bound  his 
monk's  gown,  he  scientifically  tied  the  two  robbers  so 
securely  that  they  could  not  escape.  Then  he  gave  his 
attention  to  the  lord. 

"  Seignior — "  said  he ;  but  he  was  interrupted. 

"  Good  father,  well  done  ;  I  could  not  have  done  bet- 
ter myself !  "  cried  the  Lord  of  Dorat.  "  Just  loosen 
these  hands  and  feet,  and  I  will  either  make  short  work 
of  the  villains  here  or  take  them  to  Dorat  and  have  them 
hung  at  sunrise  to-morrow." 

"  Seignior,"  cried  Hugues,  "  I  will  leave  thee  as  thou 
art  unless  thou  wilt  promise  me  that  thou  wilt  let  me 
deal  with  the  robbers,  and  that  thou  wilt  ask  no  further 
punishment." 

The  lord,  who  was  really  glad  to  get  off  so  easily, 
readily  consented,  and  when  the  robbers  regained  con- 
sciousness it  was  to  see  their  would-be  victim  mounted 
on  his  horse  and  starting  off  toward  his  castle  not  much 
the  worse,  excepting  for  a  few  bruises,  mostly  by  his 
fall.  They  complained  bitterly  that  Hugues  had  wronged 


58  GRANDMONT. 

them  of  their  lawful  prey,  but  one  glance  from  those 
steel-colored  eyes  of  Hugues  and  a  tightened  grasp  of 
his  terrible  club  convinced  them  that  they  had  better 
desist  from  that  subject.  Hugues  now  approached 
them  and  bade  them  get  up.  Both  swore  that  they 
were  unable,  but  a  suggestive  prod  from  his  staff  over- 
came all  disability,  and  the  two  criminals  were  marched 
off  from  the  highway  into  the  woods  in  the  direction  of 
Tours. 

After  walking  for  some  time,  and  when  the  shades  of 
night  began  to  settle,  Hugues  ordered  them  to  stop. 
The  place  was  most  solitary.  Never  had  the  robbers 
ventured  into  those  recesses.  The  heavy  branches  of 
the  large  trees  united  over  their  heads  and  seemed  to 
shut  out  forever  the  sunlight.  The  stillness  was  some- 
thing awful.  Now  and  then  the  howl  of  a  stray  wolf 
that  smelt  human  blood  gave  them  an  idea  of  their 
danger.  A  large  white  owl  from  a  branch  just  over 
their  heads  now  and  then  uttered  a  solemn  "  Whoo ! 
Whoo!  "  and  that  there  were  any  other  living  human 
beings  on  the  earth  seemed  impossible.  Not  far  from 
where  they  were  a  brook  of  running  water  gave  forth  its 
monotonous  gurgle,  but  all  else  was  like  the  grave. 

Hugues  proceeded  to  build  a  rude  altar  from  stones, 
on  the  top  of  which  he  set  up  his  cross.  He  ordered 
his  prisoners,  who  were  still  bound,  to  kneel  down.  One 
of  them  asked  him,  "  Holy  father,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  us  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  convert  you,"  was  his  answer.  Then, 
ordering  silence,  he  began  the  service  of  the  dead,  which 
he  repeated  from  memory. 

The  wretches  now  became  alarmed  and  began  to  cry 
for  mercy,  but  Hugues  paid  not  the  slightest  attention 
to  their  cries  until  his  service  was  finished.  Then  he 
said,  "  It  is  a  pity  that  there  is  no  cemetery  to  walk 


CONVERSION  OF  REUBEN  AND  NAPHTALI.   $9 

around."  This  he  said  because  it  was  the  custom 
among  the  monks  at  Grandmont  to  walk  around  a  cem- 
etery three  or  seven  times  every  day  after  repeating  the 
service  of  the  dead.  The  guilty  prisoners  thought  that 
Hugues  was  about  to  start  a  cemetery  on  his  own  ac- 
count, and  their  cries  and  agony  became  more  piteous 
and  agonizing  than  ever. 

Hugues  perceived  that  his  plan  was  working  well. 
Never  in  all  his  monastic  life  had  he  been  called  upon  to 
confess  to  anybody,  but  he  had  his  own  ideas  how  it 
ought  to  be  done.  So  he  called  them  to  him  and  bade 
both  kneel  down,  and  said,  "  Now  I  command  you  to 
make  a  full  and  complete  confession  of  all  your  sins,  for 
you  may  not  live  until  morning." 

Vain  were  their  pleas  for  mercy.  Their  wail  had  no 
more  effect  on  Hugues  than  the  twittering  of  the  birds 
in  the  tree  above  their  heads. 

"  Stop  your  noise,"  he  would  say;  "  and  do  not  waste 
my  precious  time  with  baby  whimperings.  What  is  your 
name  ?  "  cried  he  to  the  first. 

"  My  name  is  Pierre,"  said  he. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  the  evils  that  you  have  done." 

Unhesitatingly  the  culprit  told  such  a  tale  of  woe  as 
shocked  even  Hugues.  Such  debauchery,  so  much 
bloodshed,  such  lives  even  he  was  not  acquainted  with. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  the  judge-confessor. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  take  that !  "  said  Hugues,  and  a  blow  from  his 
staff  felled  him  like  a  bullock  struck  by  a  butcher. 

"  Now  confess  thou,"  said  Hugues  to  the  other. 

"  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  a  natural  brother  of 
Pierre,  and  that  my  name  is  Jean.  I  have  been  a  part- 
ner with  my  brother  all  of  his  life.  What  he  has  done 
I  have  done  likewise.  So  his  confession,  which  I  have 
heard,  will  also  stand  for  mine." 


60  GRANDMONT. 

"  Take  that !  "  said  Hugues,  and  a  like  blow  left 
him  stretched  beside  his  brother. 

After  that  punishment,  seeing  that  his  prisoners  were 
not  entirely  dead,  and  bringing  a  little  water  to  refresh 
them,  he  repeated  the  office  of  the  Virgin,  and  stretch- 
ing himself  upon  the  leaves  was  sleeping  soon  as  they 
only  sleep  who  think  that  duty  has  been  well  dis- 
charged. 

Before  the  first  ray  heralding  the  rising  sun  had  dis- 
pelled the  shade  from  the  forest  nook  where  Hugues 
and  his  prisoners  had  spent  the  night,  the  newly  made 
monk  and  servant  of  Etienne  was  awake  and  commenced 
his  worship  before  even  the  birds  began  their  songs. 
The  wretches  had  spent  a  miserable  night.  They  did 
not  know  whether  they  were  reserved  for  the  gallows  or 
for  liberty,  whether  they  would  be  straightway  con- 
verted into  angels,  saints,  or  corpses.  The  eagerness 
with  which  they  watched  Hugues  was  painful.  As  they 
had  been  fasting  for  quite  a  little  time  now,  Hugues 
brought  them  some  water  and  gave  them  some  roots  and 
nuts  that  he  had  found  as  their  breakfast,  which  was  just 
what  he  himself  had  eaten.  After  again  making  them 
kneel  while  he  repeated  the  service  of  the  dead,  and  had 
again  spoken  some  ominous  words  about  walking  around 
the  cemetery,  Hugues  bade  them  attentively  look  at 
him.  Then,  holding  up  a  cross  in  his  left  hand  and  a  club 
in  his  right,  he  demanded  whether  they  would  be  con- 
verted and  become  good  monks,  or  whether  they  would 
prefer  going  back  to  the  castle  of  the  Lord  of  Dorat  and 
there  paying  the  penalty  of  their  crimes  on  the  gallows. 
The  threatening  position  of  that  club  and  a  knowledge 
of  the  strong  arm  that  wielded  it  made  them  hesitate 
but  very  little.  It  seemed  that  the  proposition  of 
Hugues  was  just  an  easy  way  of  getting  out  of  a  terrible 
difficulty;  so  they  both  speedily  promised,  to  be  ccm- 


CONVERSION   OF   REUBEN   AND   NAPHTALI.     6l 

verted  and  take  the  monastic  vows.  At  this  Hugues 
held  toward  them  the  cross  to  be  kissed  ;  but  they 
did  not  understand  the  gesture,  and  Hugues  gave 
each  one  a  reminding  tap  with  his  club  to  make 
them  more  attentive,  and  after  that  they  failed  not 
in  any  particular. 

Hugues  spent  some  little  time  putting  them  through 
the  necessary  preparation  that  would  fit  them  to  enter 
the  great  monastery  at  Tours.  He  forthwith  proceeded 
to  baptize  them.  As  he  had  never  performed  this 
ceremony  before,  he  felt  a  little  awkward,  but  he 
was  satisfied  that  there  were  no  critics  to  complain 
of  his  way  of  doing  things.  He  ordered  them  both  to 
follow  him  down  to  the  brook,  taking  care  to  have 
both  bound.  After  repeating  the  service  of  the  dead, 
as  that  was  the  only  service  that  he  knew  by  heart, 
he  made  them  both  wade  out  into  the  brook,  which  at 
that  place  was  quite  a  stream,  being  about  thirty  or  forty 
feet  wide  and  in  some  places  about  six  feet  deep.  When 
they  reached  mid-channel,  he  bade  them  halt,  and  ask- 
ing them  their  names  was  surprised  to  find  one  called 
after  the  apostle  John  and  the  other  after  his  patron 
Saint  Peter.  "  No,  no,"  said  Hugues;  "  I  will  never  give 
you  such  holy  names  as  those,  but  I  heard  Etienne  read 
the  last  time  something  about  Reuben  and  Naphtali, 
and  I  think  they  are  good  enough  names  for  you." 
Then,  after  repeating  as  nearly  as  he  could  the  formula 
that  he  had  heard  used  when  persons  were  baptized, 
he  commanded  the  men  to  kneel,  and  with  the  water 
coming  up  to  their  chins  he  gave  them  both  several 
short,  quick  plunges  under  the  water,  taking  good 
care  to  keep  them  under  as  long  as  he  dared  without 
strangling  them.  After  this  was  done,  he  permitted 
them  to  go  ashore.  Now  he  thought  they  were  converted, 
and  the  prisoners  were  loud  in  their  promises  and  decla- 


62  GRANDMONT. 

rations  as  to  what  good,  pious,  exemplary  lives  they 
would  lead  when  in  the  monastery. 

Hugues  gave  them  some  very  good  advice,  and  led  them 
on  the  way  toward  the  monastery  of  Tours.  Not  until 
they  were  almost  within  sight  of  the  walls,  and  only  after 
he  had  enforced  his  exhortations  with  several  well-di- 
rected blows  of  his  club,  did  he  venture  to  take  off  the 
bands  from  his  prisoners,  who  now  were  so  subdued  that 
they  were  ready  to  go  like  two  lambs  just  where  their 
master  drove  them;  for  Hugues  made  them  walk  before 
him,  and  was  always  so  near  that  the  end  of  his  club 
could  mark  well  any  delinquency  or  change  of  opinion 
that  might  chance  to  cross  their  minds. 

Hugues  had  told  them  the  very  words  to  say  when 
they  were  questioned  by  the  abbot,  and  now  that 
the  doors  of  the  monastery  were  reached  and  the  great 
knocker  sounded,  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  little 
iron-grated  window  to  open  in  order  that  they  might 
announce  themselves,  Hugues  gave  them  one  more 
searching  glance,  and  his  club  was  raised  just  in  time  to 
prevent  the  would- (not-)  be  monks  from  running  away. 
But  the  look  in  Hugues's  eye  postponed  any  attempt, 
and  in  another  instant,  in  answer  to  the  query,  "  Who  is 
there?"  Hugues  answered,  "A  humble  disciple  of 
Etienne,  with  two  novices  who  seek  shelter  from  the 
world  beneath  your  pious  roof."  The  abbot  himself 
chanced  to  be  passing,  and  immediately  ordered  the  doors 
open,  and  warmly  embraced  Hugues,  who  introduced 
his  prisoners  by  saying  :  "  I  commend  to  your  holiness 
these  two  men,  who  have  expressed  to  me  the  desire  to 
lead  a  holy  life  in  your  community.  They  have  served 
the  devil  well  in  their  day,  but  sound  and  irresistible 
arguments  have  persuaded  them  to  change  that  life  for 
one  of  piety  and  holiness,  for  which  you  and  your 
brethren  here  at  Tours  are  noted.  I  have  already  con- 


CONVERSION   OF   REUBEN  AND   NAPHTALI.      63 

fessed  and  baptized  them,  and  now  bring  them  to  your 
holiness,  because  they  were  found  nearer  Tours  than 
Grandmont.  If  you  will  consent  to  receive  them  and 
hear  their  vows,  I  will  be  their  witness,  and  will  not  only 
thank  you,  but  believe  that  you  will  be  the  means  of  res- 
cuing two  poor  souls  from  death." 

The  earnest  words  of  Hugues  made  an  impression 
on  the  abbot,  who  in  turn  was  highly  complimented  by 
the  fact  that  Hugues  had  brought  these  two  brothers 
to  him  instead  of  taking  them  to  Grandmont.  Already 
he  had  heard  of  the  wonderful  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  the  former  Lord  of  Chalus,  and  now  he  be- 
lieved that  he  was  talking  face  to  face  with  Hugues.  So 
he  replied  :  "  I  think  that  I  am  not  mistaken  in  address- 
ing the  holy  brother  Hugues,  whose  piety  and  holiness 
have  become  the  joy  of  the  whole  Church  and  the  es- 
pecial comfort  of  his  brethren,  and  I  greet  most  cordial- 
ly the  Lord  of  Chalus  as  my  brother  monk  from  Grand- 
mont. What  you  have  done  is  so  good  that  an  angel 
would  not  refuse  it,  and  it  is  with  the  greatest  delight 
that  I  welcome  these  new  converts  to  our  fold.  And 
now,  without  another  minute's  delay,  I  will  sound  the 
appeal  to  summon  the  whole  brotherhood  to  the  sanc- 
tuary, where  in  the  presence  of  all,  and  especially  of 
yourself,  we  will  receive  their  vows." 

When  he  had  said  this,  he  ordered  the  great  bell  to  be 
rung,  and  while  the  monks  came  trooping  into  the  chapel 
he  gave  Hugues  the  most  fraternal  greeting,  and  kissed 
the  two  novices  on  either  cheek,  and  remarked  on  their 
"  self-imposed  flagellations,"  for  which  he  mistook  the 
disciplinary  blows  of  Hugues's  staff  that  had  persuaded 
them  to  this  life.  It  was  really  a  solemn  moment,  or 
should  have  been.  The  brotherhood  chanted  a  hymn  of 
welcome,  the  abbot  set  forth  the  strict  and  severe  life 
before  them,  and  demanded  their  assent.  They  hesitated 


64  GRANDMONT. 

a  moment,  but  a  glance  from  Hugues  decided  them.  The 
irrevocable  vows  of  chastity,  obedience,  and  poverty 
were  taken,  and  two  new  names  added  to  the  list,  and 
while  they  were  being  welcomed  Hugues  departed. 
His  original  mission  to  Dorat  was  quickly  performed, 
and  he  returned  to  Grandmont,  where  he  kept  his  ad- 
venture to  himself, 


PREACHING   THE   FIRST   CRUSADE.  65 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PREACHING   THE    FIRST  CRUSADE. 

THE  closing  days  of  the  year  1096  witnessed  one  of 
those  great  turning  points  in  history  which  Victor 
Hugo  has  so  aptly  termed  the  "  hinges  of  the  centu- 
ries." The  historic  council  of  Clermont  had  been  held. 
Pope  Urban  II  was  a  man  of  great  spirit  and  energy ; 
he  was  a  good  imitator  of  Gregory  VII,  his  former 
master.  When  he  assumed  the  reins  of  power,  he  be- 
held Christendom  in  a  wretchedly  divided  condition. 
Feuds,  internal  wars,  fraternal  strifes,  innumerable  divi- 
sions, the  veritable  outcome  of  the  feudal  laws,  were 
everywhere  apparent.  Over  fifty  years  before  the 
Truce  of  God,  as  it  was  called,  had  been  promul- 
gated by  the  pope,  by  which  fighting  was  forbidden 
from  every  Friday  until  Monday,  but  this  was  not  gen- 
erally observed.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  of 
such  a  mixed,  lawless,  and  ungovernable  multitude  as 
the  different  masses  which  then  populated  the  European 
countries. 

The  Church  herself  was  seriously  threatened.  Her 
own  laws  were  disobeyed  with  impunity,  and  although 
Philippe,  King  of  France,  had  been  excommunicated 
on  account  of  his  openly  putting  aside  Bertha,  his  law- 
ful wife,  and  taking  Betarde,  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou, 
in  her  place,  the  great  work  of  the  council  was  yet  to  be 
done,  and  that  was  to  inaugurate  the  Crusades.  The 
eloquence  and  tears  of  Peter  the  Hermit  had  already 
awakened  the  interest  of  the  Church.  This  wonderful 
man,  who  went  empty  handed  and  unknown  from  vil- 


66  GRANDMONT. 

lage  to  village,  has  probably  never,  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  had  an  equal  in  arousing  the  masses. 

A  short  time  before  the  reports  brought  back  by  per- 
secuted pilgrims  from  the  East  drew  Peter  out  of  his  re- 
treat, and  led  him  across  the  land  and  sea  to  the  places 
so  sacred  in  Christian  history.  The  sight  of  Jerusalem 
affected  him  very  greatly,  as  it  did  all  the  pilgrims.  A 
thousand  different  feelings  moved  his  soul.  This  city, 
which  still  bore  everywhere  the  marks  of  misery  and 
divine  anger,  worked  upon  his  charity  and  filled  him 
with  devotion  and  zeal.  Respect,  terror,  and  indignation 
alternately  filled  his  breast. 

After  having  visited  the  sacred  places,  he  went  to  the 
Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  whose  long  white  beard,  vener- 
able figure,  and  the  memory  of  the  persecutions  through 
which  he  had  passed  impressed  most  deeply  the  impet- 
uous nature  of  Peter.  Together  they  wept  over  the  ills 
that  had  befallen  the  Christians.  Peter,  whose  heart 
was  burning,  his  face  bathed  in  tears,  asked,  "  Is  there 
not  some  remedy  for  these  calamities  ?  " 

"  O,  most  faithful  of  Christians ! "  replied  the  patriarch ; 
"  do  you  not  see  that  our  sins  have  closed  the  access  of 
the  mercy  of  God.  Asia  is  in  the  power  of  the  Mussul- 
man ;  all  the  East  is  fallen  in  servitude  to  him ;  no 
earthly  power  can  help  us." 

At  these  words  Peter  interrupted  Simon  and  said, 
"  Perhaps  some  day  the  warriors  of  the  West  will  be  the 
liberators  of  Jerusalem." 

"  Aye,  without  doubt,"  replied  the  patriarch,  "  when 
our  afflictions  have  humbled  us,  when  God  shall  be 
touched  by  our  miseries,  he  will  soften  the  hearts  of 
the  princes  of  the  West,  and  will  send  help  to  the  Holy 
City." 

At  these  words  Peter  and  Simon  opened  their  hearts 
to  one  another,  and  embraced  each  other  with  tears  of 


PREACHING  THE  FIRST  CRUSADE.  6/ 

joy.  The  patriarch  resolved  to  implore  the  help  of  the 
pope  and  the  princes  of  Europe,  while  the  hermit,  on 
his  bare  knees  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  patriarch's  house 
in  Jerusalem,  swore  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would  inter- 
pret the  sorrows  of  the  Christians  of  the  East  and  in- 
voke the  arm  of  the  West  for  their  deliverance.  To  add 
to  the  devotion  of  Peter,  and  to  increase  his  enthusiasm, 
was  added  a  vision  that  came  to  him  one  day  while  pros-* 
trate  in  the  Holy  Sepulcher.  He  believed  that  he  heard 
the  voice  of  Jesus  Christ  himself  calling  to  him,  "  Pe- 
ter, arise ;  run,  tell  the  tribulations  of  my  people.  It  is 
time  that  my  servants  should  help  and  deliver  the  sa- 
cred places."  These  words  rang  unceasingly  in  his  ears. 
He  departed  from  Palestine,  and,  landing  in  Italy,  he 
hastened  to  the  feet  of  the  pope,  and  there  poured  out 
his  tale  of  woes.  His  tears,  his  eloquence,  his  many 
terrible  facts  moved  the  heart  of  the  pontiff,  who  saw 
here  not  only  a  chance  to  deliver  the  sacred  places, 
but  a  cause  which  would  unite  all  the  different  states 
of  the  world  and  give  to  the  Church  a  unity  and  power 
that  she  had  never  been  able  to  exercise  over  the  di- 
verse and  contending  elements  of  humanity. 

Peter  the  Hermit  was  hailed  as  the  prophet  of  deliver- 
ance. He  accompanied  the  pope  to  Clermont,  and  was 
one  of  the  attractions  of  the  great  council.  After  the 
council  had  closed,  the  papal  procession  started  for  Li- 
moges. Peter  led  the  way,  mounted  on  a  white  donkey, 
bareheaded  and  barefooted,  wearing  a  long,  loose  robe 
of  the  coarsest  gray  bound  around  his  loins  with  a  rope, 
and  holding  up  a  huge  cross.  Thus  he  entered  the  chief 
city  of  the  Limivocies  on  the  eve  of  the  Christmas 
festival. 

The  surrounding  country  had  been  well  advertised 
of  the  great  event.  Urban  II,  clothed  with  his  papal 
robes  and  accompanied  by  the  high  clergy  of  Italy, 


68  GRANDMONT. 

France,  and  Germany,  came  with  him ;  and  the  city 
was  unable  to  accommodate  the  influx  of  strangers  and 
visitors  who  came  to  be  the  witnesses  of  this  memorable 
occasion.  No  building  in  all  France  would  have  been 
large  enough  to  contain  the  crowd  that  gathered  to  greet 
the  pope  and  his  companions.  But  next  to,  if  not  sur- 
passing, the  pope  in  fame  was  Peter  the  Hermit.  In 
order  that  as  many  as  possible  might  be  witnesses 
of  the  pageant  and  hearers  of  the  discourses,  a  great 
platform  was  erected  in  an  open  place,  and  on  this  was 
raised  a  throne  for  the  pope,  while  around  him  sat  his 
clerical  dignitaries.  Most  conspicuous  on  that  stage  was 
Peter  the  Hermit,  who  never  let  go  of  the  cross,  and  sat 
convulsed  with  sobs  and  tears.  The  platform  was  sur- 
rounded, for  over  one  thousand  yards  on  every  side, 
with  one  of  the  largest  audiences  that  ever  gathered  to 
hear  men  speak.  There  were  knights  in  armor,  princes 
with  their  crests,  lords  of  the  Church  and  State  in  all 
their  insignia,  soldiers  who  held  their  swords  ready  for 
the  highest  bidder,  besides  an  innumerable  multitude  of 
peasants,  servants  (we  might  say  serfs),  and  small  ten- 
ants. All,  without  distinction,  left  palace,  hall,  castle, 
cottage,  hut,  and  poured  forth  in  one  vast  congregation. 
A  trumpet  sounded,  and  at  a  signal  from  the  pope 
Peter  the  Hermit,  trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf,  arose  to 
address  the  multitude.  All  was  hushed.  For  a  moment 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  sobs  of  the  speaker,  seeking 
to  control  his  emotions ;  but  those  sobs  seemed  to  be 
eloquence  itself.  The  countless  throng  was  in  sym- 
pathy with  him  before  he  began,  and  when  his  voice  did 
ring  out,  every  ear  was  strained  to  catch  his  words. 
The  address  was  most  fiery  and  dramatic,  full  of  striking 
apostrophes.  He  held  his  audience  spellbound  while 
he  recounted  in  an  impressive  manner  the  profanations 
and  sacrileges  which  he  had  witnessed,  the  awful  tor- 


PREACHING  THE  FIRST   CRUSADE.  69 

ments  and  persecutions  of  the  people  of  God  who  de- 
sired to  visit  the  holy  places.  He  had  seen  Christians 
loaded  with  irons,  dragged  off  into  slavery,  bound  to- 
gether under  a  yoke  as  beasts  of  burden.  He  had  seen 
the  Mohammedan  oppressors  of  Jerusalem  sell  to  the 
children  of  Christ  the  privilege  of  visiting  the  tomb  of 
their  God.  He  told  how  they  had  sold  their  bread  and 
exposed  themselves  to  the  bitterest  want  in  order  to  ob- 
tain this  immunity.  He  had  beheld  the  ministers  of  the 
Almighty  arrested  in  the  very  sanctuary,  beaten  from 
the  altars,  and  condemned  to  an  ignominious  death. 
And,  as  he  pictured  the  blood  of  the  Christians  running 
in  torrents  through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  he  invoked 
in  turn  the  saints,  the  angels,  and  heaven  as  witnesses  to 
the  truth  of  what  he  said.  He  apostrophized  Mount 
Zion,  he  appealed  to  the  rock  of  Calvary,  and  addressed 
the  Mount  of  Olives  in  the  height  of  his  eloquence,  and, 
rising  from  climax  to  climax,  he  carried  the  people  as 
with  a  flood,  closing  with  a  burst  of  tears  in  which  every 
one  of  his  auditors  joined. 

After  this  address,  when  every  heart  in  that  innumer- 
able host  was  tense  with  feeling,  Urban  II  arose  from  the 
papal  throne.  Coming  forward,  clothed  with  all  his 
pontifical  robes,  the  cynosure  of  every  eye,  he  thus  ad- 
dressed the  multitude  : 

"  You  have  come  to  hear  the  envoy  from  the  Chris- 
tians of  the  East.  He  has  told  you  of  the  wretched 
condition  of  Jerusalem  and  of  the  people  of  God.  He 
has  shown  you  how  the  city  of  the  King  of  kings,  which 
has  sent  to  others  the  precepts  of  a  pure  faith,  has  been 
constrained  to  submit  to  pagan  superstition  ;  how  the 
miraculous  tomb,  where  death  was  not  able  to  guard  her 
prey — this  tomb,  the  source  of  the  future  life  from  which 
the  Sun  of  the  resurrection  arose — has  been  sullied  by 
those  who  will  not  be  resurrected  themselves  except  to  be 
5 


70  GRANDMONT. 

as  straw  for  the  eternal  fire.  The  victorious  impiety  has 
spread  its  darkness  over  the  rich  countries  of  Asia. 
Antioch,  Ephesus,  Nicea  are  become  the  cities  of  the 
Mussulman.  The  barbarous  hosts  of  the  Turks  have 
planted  their  standards  on  the  banks  of  the  Hellespont, 
where  they  menace  the  Christian  countries  unless  God 
himself  arms  against  them  his  children  and  stays  their 
triumphal  march.  What  one  nation,  what  single  king- 
dom will  be  able  to  close  the  ports  of  the  West  against 
this  foe  ?  All  Christian  countries  must  interest  them- 
selves and  do  their  part  in  this  work — above  all  others 
the  French.  It  is  in  their  courage  that  the  Church 
places  her  hope.  It  is  because  their  bravery  and  their 
piety  are  so  well  known  that  the  pope  has  crossed  the 
Alps  and  brings  to  them  the  word  of  God. 

"  The  pilgrims  are  worthy  of  all  praises.  They  are  the 
people  that  the  Lord  our  God  will  bless,  groaning  and 
fallen  under  the  weight  of  outrages  and  exactions  the 
most  shameful.  The  elect  race  are  forced  to  submit  to 
the  indignities  of  persecutions.  The  impious  rage  of  the 
Saracens  does  not  respect  either  the  virgins  of  our  Lord 
or  the  royal  college  of  the  priests.  They  have  loaded 
with  irons  the  hands  of  the  weak  and  the  aged ;  they 
have  snatched  infants  from  the  maternal  breast,  and 
have  made  them  forget  the  name  of  God  in  the  houses 
of  barbarians.  The  hospices  which  are  prepared  to  re- 
ceive poor  travelers  to  the  holy  places  have  been  sadly 
profaned  by  this  perverse  nation.  The  temple  of  the 
Lord  has  been  treated  with  base  dishonor,  and  the  orna- 
ments of  the  sanctuary  have  been  taken  away  captive. 
What  can  I  tell  you  more  in  the  midst  of  so  many 
evils  ?  Those  who  have  been  able  to  remain  in  their  deso- 
late homes,  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  the  guardians 
of  Calvary,  the  servants  and  the  fellow -citizens  of  the 
Man-God — what  will  they  do  unless  they  have  a  law 


PREACHING   THE  FIRST   CRUSADE.  ?I 

to  receive  and  help  the  pilgrims,  if  they  have  not  faith 
and  live  without  priests,  without  altars,  without  religious 
ceremonies,  in  a  land  all  covered  still  with  the  blood  of 
Jesus  ? 

"O,  we  are  indeed  wretched,  my  children  and  my 
brethren,  that  we  live  in  this  day  of  calamities  !  Are  we 
not  come  in  this  century  to  be  reproved  by  heaven,  by 
the  sight  of  the  desolation  of  the  Holy  City  ?  Shall  we 
remain  in  peace  when  she  is  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  die  in  war  than 
to  endure  longer  this  horrible  spectacle  ?  Weep  all 
together  for  our  faults  which  have  armed  divine  wrath. 
Let  us  weep,  but  not  that  our  tears  should  be  as  seeds 
thrown  upon  the  sand,  but  that  the  holy  war  should 
light  in  us  the  fires  of  repentance  ;  that  the  love  of  our 
brethren  should  animate  us  to  combat,  and  should  be 
stronger  than  death  itself  against  the  enemies  of  the 
Christian  people. 

"  Listen  to  me,  O  ye  warriors !  You  who  look  without 
ceasing  for  a  vain  pretext  for  war  rejoice,  for  here  is  a 
legitimate  war.  The  moment  is  come  for  you  to  show 
whether  you  are  animated  by  a  true  courage.  The  mo- 
ment is  come  to  expiate  all  the  violence  committed  in 
the  time  of  peace,  all  the  victories  sullied  by  injustice. 
You  who  have  so  often  been  the  terror  of  your  fellow- 
citizens,  and  who  for  a  vile  salary  sell  your  strength  to 
satisfy  the  revenge  of  others,  arm  yourselves  with  the 
glaive  of  the  Maccabees.  Go,  defend  the  house  of  Israel, 
which  is  the  vine  of  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Strive  no 
longer  to  revenge  the  injuries  of  men,  but  those  of  divin- 
ity. Strive  no  longer  to  attack  a  city  or  a  castle,  but  win 
back  the  holy  places.  If  you  triumph,  the  benedictions 
of  heaven  and  the  kingdoms  of  Asia  will  be  your  por- 
tion ;  if  you  die,  you  will  have  the  glory  of  dying  in  the 
land  where  Jesus  died,  and  God  will  not  forget  that  you 


72  GRANDMONT. 

were  seen  among  his  holy  warriors.  What  cowardly 
affections,  what  profane  sentiments  still  hold  you  to  your 
firesides  ?  Soldiers  of  the  living  God,  do  you  not  hear 
the  groans  of  Zion  ?  Break  all  the  ties  of  earth.  Do 
you  not  hear  God  saying,  '  He  that  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me; '  '  And  every 
one  that  hath  forsaken  houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or 
father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my 
name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundredfold,  and  shall  in- 
herit everlasting  life  ?  ' " 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  now  knew  no  bounds. 
When  these  burning  words  had  inflamed  their  hearts, 
they  all  cried,  as  with  one  voice,  "  God  wills  it  !  God 
wills  it ! "  The  cry,  resounded  from  side  to  side,  was 
caught  up,  repeated,  and  thundered  back  again  by  the 
swaying  multitude. 

As  soon  as  calm  was  restored,  the  pontiff  said : 

"You  see  here  the  accomplishing  of  the  divine  prom- 
ise. Jesus  has  said  that  where  his  disciples  are  assem- 
bled he  will  be  there  in  the  midst  of  them.  Yes,  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  is  now  in  your  midst,  and  he  him- 
self has  inspired  you  to  repeat  those  words  that  I  have 
heard,  '  God  wills  it ! '  Let  those  words  become  your 
war  cry.  Let  them  announce  always  the  presence  of  the 
God  of  armies."  Then  holding  up  a  cross,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  It  is  Jesus  Christ  himself  who  now  comes 
from  his  tomb  and  presents  you  with  his  cross.  Let  this 
be  the  sign  lifted  up  among  the  nations  which  shall  unite 
the  dispersed  children  of  Israel.  Carry  it  upon  your 
shoulders  or  upon  your  breast.  Let  it  be  stamped  on 
your  arms  and  your  standard.  Let  it  become  for  you  the 
pledge  of  victory  or  the  palm  of  martyrdom.  Let  it  re- 
mind you  unceasingly  that  Jesus  Christ  died  for  you, 
and  that  you  should  be  ready  to  die  for  him." 

Thousands  upon  thousands  hastened  to  express  their 


PREACHING  THE   FIRST   CRUSADE.  73 

willingness  to  go  to  the  holy  war.  The  great  throng 
knelt  down  as  one  man  to  receive  the  papal  benedic- 
tion, and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  hour  was  limited  only  by 
the  multitude.  Great  promises  were  held  out  to  all  who 
should  go.  No  engagement  was  binding  if  it  deterred 
anyone  from  going.  No  promise  or  contract  was  sacred 
or  in  force  if  it  stood  in  the  way  of  taking  the  cross. 
Even  monastic  vows  could  be  annulled,  and  permission 
was  given  for  all  who  wished  to  leave  the  monastic  cell 
for  the  "  holy  militia,"  as  the  army  of  the  cross  was  called. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  world  was  there  a  greater 
outlet  for  the  rogues  and  discontented,  the  malefactors 
and  the  criminals.  Every  prison  was  opened,  and  every 
bearer  of  the  white  cross  was  a  sort  of  libertine  on  his 
way  to  Palestine.  Abbots  and  priors  of  religious  houses 
were  ordered  to  allow  any  of  their  inmates  who  wished 
to  start  on  this  undertaking  to  receive  the  cross. 

In  the  monastery  of  Grandmont,  however,  there  were 
only  two  who  cared  to  go.  Etienne,  who  counseled 
with  Hugues  on  his  experience,  while  he  said  nothing 
against  the  Crusade,  in  no  way  favored  it ;  and  the  two 
monks  who  left  were  discontented  brethren,  who  were 
only  anxious  for  an  excuse  to  get  back  among  the  good 
things  of  the  world,  which  they  greatly  missed  under 
Etienne's  strict  discipline. 


74  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TWO    PRECIOUS    CRUSADERS. 

IT  was  a  never-to-be-forgotten  day  in  the  monastery  of 
Tours  when  a  monk,  commissioned  by  Pope  Urban, 
wearing  a  white  cross  sewn  upon  his  breast,  and  holding 
up  a  large  crucifix,  stood  before  the  assembled  inmates, 
who  were  gathered  in  the  chapel  to  hear  the  preaching 
of  the  first  Crusade. 

The  terrible  stories  of  Peter  the  Hermit  lost  none  of 
their  force  by  being  repeated.  The  wrongs  of  the  Chris- 
tian visiting  the  holy  places  were  duly  enlarged  upon. 
Another  powerful  motive  influenced  men  :  They  com- 
monly believed  that  the  land  of  Palestine,  which  should 
be  the  reward  of  victory,  would  yield  the  comforts  and 
luxuries  of  life  without  the  toil  and  labor  required  else- 
where. The  vows  of  the  monastery  were  revoked  by 
papal  authority,  and  large  numbers  came  forward  and 
took  the  cross. 

Among  the  very  first  volunteers  were  the  new  mem- 
bers of  the  brotherhood,  Hugues's  trophies,  Reuben  and 
Naphtali.  Already  the  strict  rules  of  the  monastery  had 
become  irksome  to  their  souls,  and  they  had  together 
been  planning  a  way  of  escape.  Now  came  an  unex- 
pected opportunity,  such  as  they  had  been  most  earnestly 
longing  for.  In  a  most  devout  manner  they  knelt  at  the 
altar  and  asked  if  they  would  be  counted  worthy  to  give 
their  poor  lives  to  win  back  the  blessed  land.  The 
preacher  immediately  held  them  up  as  a  model  for  all 
of  the  others,  and  lost  no  time  in  taking  their  names 
and  receiving  their  oath  and  fastening  upon  the  breast 


TWO   PRECIOUS   CRUSADERS.  75 

of  each  a  white  cross.  "  Go,"  said  he  ;  "  lose  no  time  in 
persuading  all  whom  you  can  influence  to  depart  with 
haste  on  this  holy  mission." 

Never  was  there  more  prompt  obedience  than  that 
showed  by  the  two  new  recruits.  After  reverently  de- 
manding the  blessing  of  the  abbot,  they  started  on  their 
way,  not  waiting  for  their  noonday  meal.  After  getting 
a  good  distance  from  the  monastery,  they  began  to  caper 
and  play  like  boys  and  congratulate  themselves  on  their 
lucky  escape. 

"  Now  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  asked  Reuben. 

"  Do  ?  "  answered  Naphtali ;  "  why,  have  a  good  time, 
of  course !  We  are  now  holy  monks,  thanks  to  the 
cudgel  of  that  ruffian  Hugues,  and  have  a  right  to  enter 
any  castle  and  be  received  as  princes,  and  I  for  one  in- 
tend to  fill  this  stomach  in  a  way  that  it  has  not  known 
since  the  sad  morning  that  made  us  monks." 

''  Aye,  aye,  thou  speakest  well,  and  I  am  of  thy  ad- 
vice," said  Reuben.  So  these  two  specimens  of  the 
Crusade  started  out.  That  cloak  or  rough  gown  of  the 
monk,  with  the  white  cross,  covered  as  precious  a  pair 
of  rascals  as  ever  started  out  as  parasites  on  humanity. 
The  first  night  they  spent  in  a  farmhouse,  where  they 
were  well  entertained  and  showed  a  remarkable  capacity 
for  wine  and  meat,  so  that  the  poor  housewife  wished 
that  she  might  never  again  be  called  upon  to  entertain 
two  such  feeders  ;  but  the  next  day  they  took  their  way 
to  the  castle  of  Dorat,  being  sure  that  their  disguise  was 
so  perfect  that  the  man  they  had  robbed  before  would 
not  recognize  them. 

It  was  just  before  the  portcullis  was  drawn  that  the 
two  entered  the  castle  precincts.  They  were  received 
with  honor.  The  lord  of  the  castle,  still  lame  from  his 
fall  and  rough  usage,  limped  forth  to  welcome  the  bear- 
ers of  the  white  cross,  "  You,"  said  he,  "  are  the  first 


/6  GRANDMONT. 

who  have  honored  me  with  a  visit  since  the  holy  father 
issued  his  orders.  I  would  gladly  join  you  but  for 
a  mishap  which  I  had  with  two  dastardly  scoundrels, 
who  met  me  in  an  unguarded  moment  and  gave  my 
horse  a  fall  that  nearly  killed  me.  However,  I  shall 
entertain  well  those  who  can  go." 

The  two  monks  exchanged  glances  and  expressed 
great  sympathy  with  the  lord,  who  in  turn  ushered  them 
into  his  spacious  court  and  then  into  his  castle.  Orders 
were  given  for  a  sumptuous  dinner,  and  soon  the  huge 
fireplace  was  filled  with  roasting  sheep  and  poultry,  be- 
sides a  fat  pig  that  was  especially  killed  to  give  the  cru- 
saders a  savory  dish.  The  monks  made  themselves 
very  agreeable,  and  recounted  wonderful  stories  of  the 
land  to  which  they  were  going.  At  dinner  they  both  in- 
dulged to  such  an  extent  that  they  were  unfitted  to  rise 
from  the  table ;  but,  as  most  of  the  feasters  were  in  the 
same  condition,  no  fault  was  found.  The  lord,  how- 
ever, at  a  late  hour  asked  the  monks  to  repeat  a  service 
suitable  for  the  night.  Now  here  was  a  very  difficult 
matter.  Neither  of  the  two  had  been  at  the  monastery 
long  enough  to  know  a  service;  but,  as  something  had  to 
be  done  right  away  to  avoid  suspicion,  Reuben  bade 
Naphtali  to  conduct  the  service.  This  worthy  arose 
and  said  that  he  and  his  brother  had  made  a  most  sol- 
emn vow  never  to  repeat  the  holy  service  in  any  other 
language  than  Greek,  the  tongue  which  their  Master 
spoke,  and  which  they  hoped  so  soon  to  speak  in  the 
land  worn  by  his  footsteps.  Then  he  began  a  rigmarole 
of  "  hi  ri  ho  po  gurish  hum  sa,"  making  a  long  list  of 
meaningless  sounds,  accompanied  by  genuflections  and 
motions  of  the  cross,  in  all  of  which  Reuben  imitated 
his  colleague.  The  effect  on  the  ignorant  nobleman  was 
great,  and  all  who  were  present  looked  upon  the  two  as 
most  remarkable  and  learned  men. 


TWO   PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS.  77 

For  the  good  reason  that  they  were  unable  to  climb 
the  stairs  of  the  castle  the  rascals  asked  to  remain  where 
they  were  for  the  night,  saying  that  they  preferred  to 
sleep  on  the  stone  floor  rather  than  enjoy  the  luxuries  of 
the  palace,  as  they  wished  to  accustom  themselves  to 
the  exposure  and  fatigue  of  the  journey  ;  and  at  the  same 
time  they  requested  that  they  might  leave  early,  insist- 
ing that  no  one  should  rise  to  let  them  go,  as  they 
would  let  down  the  drawbridge  and  open  the  gates 
themselves.  As  all  of  the  household  were  the  worse  for 
the  excessive  feasting,  the  monks  were  not  denied  their 
wish  ;  so  when  all  had  retired,  these  rogues  picked  up  as 
much  of  the  silver  plate  as  they  could  conveniently  carry 
and  made  their  way  unhindered  out  of  the  castle.  That 
day  they  spent  in  the  woods,  sleeping  off  the  effects  of 
the  feast. 

Was  there  not  a  stir  in  the  castle  the  next  morning 
when  the  lord  awoke  at  a  late  hour  and  heard  that  a 
goodly  portion  of  the  plate  that  he  valued  so  highly  was 
gone  ?  The  big  bell  was  sounded ;  all  of  the  servants 
were  assembled  and  questioned.  The  last  time  that  the 
silver  was  seen  was  by  the  servants,  who  left  it  on 
the  table  at  night,  not  removing  it  because  of  the 
lateness  of  the  hour.  As  a  good  quantity  of  wine  was 
taken  too,  with  some  provisions,  it  did  seem,  in  spite  of 
all  other  facts  in  opposition,  that  the  two  monks  were  the 
thieves.  "  I  will  clear  their  characters  or  prove  them 
guilty,"  said  the  lord,  and,  ordering  his  attendants,  he 
started  in  pursuit. 

The  search  that  day  was  vain.  At  night  they  drew 
near  to  the  casile  of  Cocu,  near  Ambazac,  and  into 
the  ear  of  its  lord  he  poured  his  tale.  Early  the  next 
morning  Lord  Dorat,  accompanied  by  Lord  Cocu, 
went  over  to  Grandmont  to  ask  Etienne's  advice,  Dorat 
thinking  that  perhaps  it  was  two  of  his  monks  that  had 


78  GRANDMONT. 

committed  the  crime.  As  the  brothers  were  all  in  the 
chapel,  Dorat  saw  them,  and,  having  asked  Etienne 
about  the  two  who  had  taken  the  cross,  he  learned  that 
in  no  way  did  they  correspond  to  the  visitors  who 
had  helped  themselves  to  his  silver  and  food.  Hugues, 
who  was  by  Etienne's  side,  learned  enough  of  the  two 
to  be  sure  that  his  "  converts"  were  out  again. working 
their  evils  in  the  land ;  but  he  held  his  own  counsel,  and 
that  afternoon  found  an  excuse  to  make  a  certain  jour- 
ney, which  he  thought  would  lead  him  over  the  way  that 
the  thieves  would  probably  take. 

That  night  Hugues  rested  in  the  woods  between 
Dorat  and  Solignac.  Early  the  next  morning  his  devo- 
tions were  disturbed  by  coarse,  rough  voices,  as  of  men 
still  under  the  influence  of  wine.  His  quick  ear  caught 
the  direction  of  the  sound,  and,  walking  as  stealthily  as 
a  cat  after  a  mouse,  he  drew  near  the  place  whence  it 
proceeded.  There  he  saw  none  other  than  the  two 
men  whom  he  had  last  seen  taking  the  solemn  vows  in 
the  monastery  of  Tours.  He  was  himself  hidden  by 
bushes  and  entirely  unobserved  by  the  two,  who  were 
laying  out  plans  for  the  day. 

Already  the  ill-gotten  gains  were  spent.  A  wandering 
Jew  had  bought  the  plate  for  some  wine,  which  they 
had  drunk  until  they  were  as  badly  off  as  ever.  The 
plan  for  the  day  was  to  wait  by  the  roadside  for  peas- 
ants or  farmers,  and  get  from  them  the  money  that 
might  happen  to  be  on  their  persons. 

Hugues  was  planning  how  he  might  capture  the  two. 
To  rush  out  at  them  meant  that  one  or  both  might  es- 
cape him  as  a  better  runner.  His  only  way  was  to  await 
his  opportunity.  This  was  not  long  in  forthcoming.  A 
rich  farmer  had  that  morning  ordered  his  peasants  to 
drive  a  flock  of  sheep  to  a  neighboring  market,  and  had 
given  them  money  to  buy  some  cattle;  so  several  of 


TWO   PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS.  79 

these  men  and  women  were  seen  advancing  along  the 
road. 

"  My  plan,"  said  Reuben,  "  is  to  go  over  by  yonder 
tree  and  kneel  in  prayer  by  the  roadside,  and  then  invite 
these  to  join  us  on  our  Crusade.  We  can  persuade  them 
that  the  pope  has  sent  for  their  money,  and  so  escape 
without  the  risk  of  our  heads,  which  have  grown  unused 
to  blows  of  late." 

"  Yes,"  said  Naphtali,  "never  use  red  paint  until  you 
have  to  was  our  motto  before  we  started  on  the  Cru- 
sade." So  over  to  the  tree  they  went. 

Now  was  Hugues's  opportunity.  As  the  tree  was 
large,  he  could  easily  approach  unobserved  on  the 
opposite  side.  This  he  did,  and  by  a  quick  movement 
was  between  the  two,  with  a  foot  firmly  planted  on  each 
gown.  To  bring  their  heads  together  several  times  in 
such  quick  succession  as  to  render  them  senseless  was 
the  work  of  a  moment.  A  cry  to  the  peasants  to  run  for 
their  lives  had  the  desired  effect  of  leaving  Hugues 
once  more  alone  with  his  converts.  His  long,  stout 
girdle,  which  had  done  service  before,  was  again  brought 
into  requisition.  His  prisoners  were  firmly  bound,  and 
only  now  wanted  strength  enough  to  be  marched  wherever 
their  master  willed. 

Hugues  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  country,  and, 
as  soon  as  his  prisoners  were  able  to  walk  ordered  them 
up,  and  turning  directly  from  the  highway  marched 
them  into  the  great  forest  that  at  the  time  covered  this 
section.  A  suggestive  prod  now  and  then  from  his  staff 
reminded  them  of  the  prowess  of  the  man  who  wielded 
it,  and  the  scars  they  still  bore  were  so  recent  that  they 
had  no  desire  to  tempt  his  powers.  Indeed,  the  two 
rascals  were  as  much  surprised  at  the  advent  of  Hugues 
as  if  they  had  seen  the  evil  one  take  a  bodily  form  and 
rise  up  out  of  the  ground  to  attack  them. 


80  GRANDMONT. 

They  followed  the  directions  of  their  master  like  two 
whipped  curs.  A  word  from  Hugues  was  all  that  was 
necessary  to  make  them  do  anything  that  he  desired. 
For  several  long  miles  not  a  word  was  uttered  except 
now  and  then  a  direction  to  turn  to  the  right  or  left.  A 
careful  warning  was  given  at  the  start  to  keep  absolute 
silence,  and  disobedience  to  that  command  was  danger- 
ous, to  say  the  least.  Now  in  the  very  heart  of  the  prim- 
itive forest,  miles  from  any  human  habitation  or  high- 
way, near  a  large  oak,  Hugues  bade  them  halt.  The 
place  selected  was  on  the  bank  of  one  of  the  streams 
that  abound  in  this  hilly  country.  All  around  were 
thick  woods.  Now  and  then  an  open  space  permitted 
the  sunlight  to  enter  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  that  gloom  and  ter- 
rible silence  which  nature,  undisturbed  by  man,  loves  to 
preserve  reigned  supreme. 

It  was  just  about  sundown  when  the  trio  reached  this 
lonely  spot.  The  two  thieves  felt  sure  that  they  were 
brought  here  to  be  killed.  They  did  not  know  of  any 
other  reason  why  they  should  have  been  marched  so  far 
into  the  interior,  and  when  Hugues  gave  the  order  to 
halt,  they  were  ready  to  drop,  not  only  from  the  blows 
received  when  they  were  first  seized,  and  from  which 
they  still  suffered,  but  from  the  prolonged  anxiety  as  to 
their  fate,  for  they  looked  upon  their  captor  as  a  kind  of 
superhuman  creature  ;  and  as  they  only  thought  of  a  su- 
pernatural person  as  one  capable  of  doing  them  an 
injury,  they  feared  him  with  all  the  dread  with  which 
ignorance  and  superstition  can  make  a  poor,  benighted 
being  confront  the  unknown. 

The  captives  were  allowed  a  little  water  to  refresh 
themselves  and  to  prepare  for  the  ordeal  that  was  before 
them.  How  different  had  been  the  thoughts  passing 
through  the  brain  of  Hugues !  Throughout  that  walk 
he  had  been  revolving  in  his  mind  different  schemes  for 


TWO   PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS.  8 1 

converting  the  two  erring  men.  His  whole  study  was  to 
do  them  good,  and  he  finally  determined  upon  a  line  of 
action. 

Hugues  set  up  his  crucifix  on  some  stones  that  he 
piled  into  a  mound,  and,  bidding  his  prisoners  kneel 
down,  he  began  the  service  for  the  dead,  and  then  re- 
peated the  office  of  the  Virgin  and  snatches  of  the  mass — 
in  fact,  all  that  he  could  remember  of  the  different  parts 
of  the  ritual.  Having  finished  his  religious  ceremonies 
with  regret  over  the  absence  of  a  cemetery,  he  then 
gave  his  immediate  attention  to  the  unfortunate  crea- 
tures who  were  still  bound  and  trembling  before  him. 

"You  vile,  wicked  children  of  the  devil,"  he  began  ; 
"  why  have  ye  added  to  the  guilt  of  breaking  your  mo- 
nastic vows  that  of  theft,  ingratitude,  and  drunkenness  ? 
Were  there  not  enough  sins  at  your  door  to  keep  you  in 
purgatory  forever  without  this  new  installment  ?  I  had 
my  doubts  about  your  conversion  before,  but  now  I  am 
going  to  make  sure  of  it  ere  I  let  you  go  out  of  my 
hands." 

In  vain  did  the  wretches  begin  to  promise  anything 
and  everything.  Their  words  had  no  more  effect  on 
Hugues  than  the  evening  breeze  that  was  passing 
through  the  tree  tops  over  their  heads.  "  Yes,  I  am 
going  to  convert  you  and  make  you  good  enough  to 
come  with  me  to  Etienne,"  was  the  only  answer  to  their 
cries  and  entreaties,  and  even  this  was  spoken  more  as 
if  he  was  talking  to  himself  than  in  answer  to  their  ques- 
tions or  in  reply  to  their  fears. 

To  gather  some  dry  leaves  and  sticks,  to  employ 
some  of  his  rude  and  unsatisfactory  methods  for  light- 
ing a  fire,  was  the  work  of  several  minutes.  When  a 
good  fire  was  fairly  under  way,  to  which  a  plentiful  sup- 
ply of  wood  was  added,  Hugues  turned  again  to  the 
crouching  captives,  and  in  a  deep  and  solemn  voice  be- 


82  GRANDMONT. 

gan  to  tell  them  about  hell.  It  was  not  much  that 
he  knew,  but  his  vivid  imagination  and  rude  logic  drew 
a  picture  so  vivid  and  impressive  that  it  could  not  be 
forgotten.  He  told  of  the  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone, 
with  flames  reaching  out  of  it  higher  than  the  oaks 
above  their  heads.  He  told  of  demons,  with  pitchforks 
whose  tines  were  red  hot,  standing  on  the  bank  of  the 
lake  and  tossing  the  victims  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
finally  dropping  them  into  the  center  of  this  ever-boil- 
ing caldron.  He  depicted  the  agony  in  graphic  words, 
assuring  them  that  sufferings  and  pain  borne  on  earth 
were  sweet  and  pleasant  sensations  compared  to  the  tor- 
ments of  the  lost. 

His  words  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  minds  of  his 
two  hearers.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  will  show  you  a  little 
how  it  feels  to  be  in  torment,  and  then  you  can  make  up 
your  minds  whether  you  want  to  spend  eternity  in  that 
place  or  not." 

Having  said  this,  he  loosened  the  robes  covering  the 
wretches,  took  off  all  their  clothing  except  their  bands, 
and  thus  addressed  them  :  "  If  you  were  pure,  good  men, 
this  would  not  hurt  you ;  but  if  you  are  on  the  way  to 
hell,  the  fire  will  burn  you."  Saying  this,  he  fastened 
them  to  a  tree,  and  after  repeating  the  words  .three 
times  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  drew  his  fire- 
brand across  their  naked  backs.  Two  almost  unearthly 
yells  greeted  his  ears  and  rang  out  through  the  forest. 
"  O,  you  poor,  miserable  creatures !  "  said  he ;  "  what  will 
you  find  the  next  world  to  be  if  a  firebrand  on  earth 
makes  you  suffer  so  much  ?  Think  what  it  would  be  if 
your  whole  bodies  were  wrapt  in  the  flames  of  the  lake 
of  brimstone  !  "  And  with  these  words  a  fresh  brand 
was  drawn  across  the  quivering  flesh  of  the  writhing  suf- 
ferers. "  Think  of  hell,  which  is  as  much  hotter  as  an 
oven  is  hotter  than  ice  !  " 


TWO   PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS.  83 

In  this  the  way  he  forcibly  illustrated  his  discourse, 
ever  and  anon  touching  them  with  a  brand  when  he 
thought  that  the  smart  of  the  fire  was  passing  from  their 
minds.  It  was  midnight  before  he  thought  he  could 
safely  stop  or  was  convinced  that  their  endurance  was 
exhausted.  They  had  begged  him  to  kill  them  out- 
right, but  he  would  say,  "  What !  to  go  to  a  place  which 
is  so  much  worse  ? "  and  apply  fresh  torches.  At 
midnight  he  bade  them  both  kneel,  and,  suffering  as  they 
were,  both  knelt,  happy  to  think  that  the  fiery  applica- 
tions might  cease  for  a  little.  Once  more  the  service  of 
the  dead  was  repeated,  and,  after  seeing  that  his  pris- 
oners could  not  escape  and  making  them  as  com- 
fortable as  they  could  be  with  only  boughs  for  a  bed  and 
water  to  soothe  their  anguish,  the  converter  and,  we  may 
now  say,  the  converted  both  lay  down — the  one  to  sleep 
as  a  man  does  who  feels  that  he  has  done  his  duty  well, 
and  the  others  to  groan,  writhe,  and  toss  with  their  terri- 
ble pains  all  night. 

Early  the  next  morning,  while  the  birds  were  singing 
their  matins  to  the  rising  sun,  Hugues  was  up  and,  hav- 
ing first  erected  his  crucifix,  began  to  perform  his 
morning  service.  Never  was  a  mother  more  careful  of 
her  children  than  he  was  of  these  men.  Now  kindness 
was  in  every  word  and  every  tone.  He  regretted  their 
sufferings,  but  hoped  it  was  the  way  in  which  they  had 
escaped  eternal  fire.  He  bathed  their  swollen  and  suf- 
fering limbs,  and  did  all  that  he  could  to  allay  their  an- 
guish, ever  and  anon  reminding  them  of  the  unspeakable 
horrors  of  the  lost. 

These  rough,  savage  brutes  of  men,  who  a  month  be- 
fore were  ready  to  cut  a  man's  throat  for  a  silver  piece, 
were  now  deeply  impressed.  On  their  own  bodies  they 
felt  what  they  honestly  believed  to  be  the  beginning  of  the 
infernal  fires.  They  begged  Hugues  now  to  hear  their 


84  GRANDMONT. 

confession.  Nothing  was  kept  back ;  indeed,  memory 
was  urged  to  unfold  all  the  courses  of  crime  and  guilt 
they  had  so  long  followed.  The  one  great  desire  of 
both  was  to  escape  torment.  Little  was  their  confessor 
used  to  hearing  such  entreaties,  and  small  was  the  comfort 
that  he  was  able  to  impart.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and,  with  the  very  deepest  feelings  his  heart  could  ex- 
press, he  told  them  that  he  would  ask  the  holy  Etienne 
to  pray  for  them.  That  was  his  supreme  consolation  for 
every  ill. 

Reuben  and  Naphtali  were  as  eager  to  follow  Hugues 
to  Grandmont  as  he  was  to  lead  them  thither.  The  cord 
was  now  removed.  There  was  no  longer  any  desire  on 
their  part  to  escape  from  him.  Their  only  dread  was  the 
future  torments  which  he  had  made  so  real  to  them. 
Owing  to  the  feverish  and  worn  condition  of  the  two 
converts,  it  took  more  than  one  day  to  reach  the  monas- 
tery of  Etienne,  and  when  at  night  Hugues  lifted  up  his 
crucifix,  never  were  there  more  devout  worshipers  than 
these  two  thieves  and  murderers 

That  night  on  the  way  was  cne  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  terrible  anxiety  that  burned  their  souls  worse  than 
fire  gave  both  fevered  dreams.  Reuben,  who  had 
dropped  into  a  doze,  arose  with  a  shriek,  declaring  that 
he  had  seen  the  devil  himself,  and  that  his  claws  were 
grappling  his  soul.  So  their  confessor  arose  and  set  up 
his  crucifix,  and  repeated  the  service  of  the  dead  and  as 
much  of  all  the  other  services  as  he  could  call  to  mind. 
In  this  way  they  spent  the  whole  of  the  night,  for  none 
could  sleep,  and  the  only  comfort  was  that  Etienne  cer- 
tainly would  help  them. 

Late  the  next  afternoon  three  very  worn-looking  crea- 
tures entered  the  simple  home  which  served  to  house 
the  brethren  of  Etienne,  or  the  "good  men,"  as  they 
were  called  by  the  people  of  the  neighborhood.  Reuben 


TWO   PRECIOUS  CRUSADERS.  85 

and  his  companion  were  assigned  to  cells  immediately 
above  Hugues,  so  that  they  would  have  to  pass  his  open 
door  to  go  out ;  for  a  faint  suspicion  still  lingered  in  his 
heart  that  perhaps  they  might  try  to  escape  after  awhile, 
but  that  was  unfounded.  The  thieves  and  highwaymen 
became  the  most  exemplary  monks  in  the  institution. 
The  effect  of  Hugues's  sermon  and  his  illustrations 
never  wore  off  from  their  minds  or  bodies  ;  they  bore 
the  scars  until  their  dying  day.  But  the  rigorous  life  of 
self-imposed  hardship  and  want,  which  they  eagerly  fol- 
lowed, told  on  them,  and  the  excitement  affected  their 
brains.  Food  was  refused,  they  mutilated  their  bodies, 
and  suffered  all  that  they  could  inflict  upon  themselves, 
hoping  in  that  way  to  escape  the  fires  of  the  pit. 

Hugues  was  as  careful  and  attentive  to  them  as  a 
most  tender  nurse,  carrying  them  around  the  cemetery 
when  weakness  made  them  unable  even  to  do  that 
slight  penance,  and  he  was  the  one  who  in  their  last 
moments  stood  by  their  wasted  bodies  and  whispered 
assurances  that  they  had  escaped  as  by  fire  the  eternal 
flames  of  perdition. 

No  one  knew  their  history.  They  were  buried  with 
great  ceremony,  Etienne  himself  holding  them  as  exam- 
ples of  the  most  perfect  ideal  of  monastic  devotion,  and 
in  after  years  the  bones  of  these  two  were  venerated  as 
saints  and  exposed  at  stated  times  to  the  faithful,  and 
were  believed  to  possess  the  power  of  working  mir- 
acles. Their  memory  was  cherished  and  esteemed  in 
the  monastery,  and  years  afterward  their  names  were  re- 
called in  the  reading  of  the  roll  and  their  virtues  were 
extolled. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  Hugues  to  feel  that  his 

method   of  converting   criminals   was  a   success.     He 

many  times  thought  that  he  would  tell   Etienne,  but 

modesty  and  prudence  held  him  back;  but  he,  after 

6 


86  GRAND  MONT. 

Etienne's  death,  had  the  matter  all  written  out  and  sub- 
stituted different  names  for  these  personages. 

The  monastery  meanwhile  was  becoming  very  favor- 
ably known.  No  monks  were  so  careful  in  their  be- 
havior, and  no  abbot  so  worthy  of  imitation  as  Etienne. 
Far  and  wide  its  fame  and  good  deeds  became  known, 
and  different  establishments  of  the  order  began  to  spring 
up  all  over  France.  Many  of  the  lords  and  nobility 
thought  it  an  honor  to  be  found  among  the  supporters 
of  Grandmont.  By  these  means  revenues  were  never 
wanting,  and  the  power  of  Grandmont  was  extended, 
causing  much  satisfaction  to  the  many  friends  of  Etienne, 
but  awakening  the  deepest  jealousy  on  the  part  of  some 
of  the  Benedictine  monasteries  that  were  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood.  These  gave  Etienne  and  Hugues 
no  little  trouble. 


A  FUNERAL  IN  THE   MIDDLE  AGES.  87 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    FUNERAL   IN    THE   MIDDLE  AGES. 

REAT  excitement  was  caused  one  day  among  the 
few  monks  of  Grandmont,  a  little  after  the  morn- 
ing service,  by  a  messenger  rushing  into  the  inclosure 
and  screaming  out,  "  Lord  Cocu  has  fallen  down  in  his 
own  castle  and  is  dying."  Hugues  was  immediately 
dispatched  to  carry  consolation  and  comfort  to  the  sor- 
rowing. 

The  accident  had  happened  in  this  way :  The  good 
lord,  as  was  his  custom,  went  up  to  the  high  watchtower 
of  his  castle  to  look  out  over  his  lands.  The  castle  was 
quite  lofty  and  was  built  on  an  elevation,  so  that  from 
its  height  there  was  a  commanding  view  of  the  surround- 
ing country.  He  could  see  his  flocks,  watch  his  herds- 
men, see  how  the  crops  were  progressing,  and  have  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole  domain.  Now,  this  tower 
was  circular  and  was  open  in  the  center,  winding  stone 
steps  leading  to  the  top.  On  the  summit  there  was  a 
little  barricade  and  places  from  which  to  shoot  arrows  or 
cast  stones  and  missiles  on  an  attacking  enemy.  The 
lord  had  been  deeply  interested  in  some  of  the  sights  that 
he  beheld,  and  was  sitting  down  on  the  narrow  stone  guard 
that  was  built  to  protect  the  persons  on  the  top  from 
falling  within.  But  the  unfortunate  man  leaned  a  little 
too  far  over,  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  headfirst  down 
on  the  stone  pavement  below.  The  noise  of  the  fall  at- 
tracted the  servants  of  the  castle,  who  rushed  to  the 
spot  to  find  their  master  dead.  Of  course  the  first  thing 
was  to  send  the  news  to  Etienne,  the  dead  man's  friend. 


88  GRANDMONT. 

All  was  confusion  and  wailing  when  Hugues  ar- 
rived. Already  the  servants  had  tapped  a  new  barrel  of 
wine,  and  were  trying  to  quench  their  sorrow  in  such 
copious  draughts  that  even  in  the  short  time  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  accident  many  were  completely  over- 
come and  were  so  intoxicated  that  they  were  good  for 
nothing.  Hugues,  who  had  entered  through  the  great 
hallway  which  served  as  kitchen  and  dining  room,  saw 
the  effects  of  the  wine,  and  straightway  rolled  the  barrel 
out  of  the  hall  and  left  it  in  such  a  position  that  all  its 
contents  would  run  out.  Then  he  ordered  the  servants 
around  in  a  way  that  terrified  them  and  brought  a  little 
order  out  of  the  confusion.  Next  he  was  shown  into 
the  room  where  the  disconsolate  widow  was  sobbing  and 
screaming  on  account  of  her  loss.  A  number  of  female 
attendants  were  only  helping  to  make  her  more  hyster- 
ical by  their  loud  lamentations.  Poor  Hugues  had  never 
been  in  such  a  predicament  in  his  life.  An  ordinary 
man  would  have  retreated,  but  Hugues  was  not  of  that 
kind.  He  marched  boldly  to  the  middle  of  the  room 
and  in  a  loud  voice  commanded  silence.  The  peremp- 
tory tones  silenced  the  weeping,  and  when  all  was  hushed, 
he  lifted  up  his  crucifix  and  commenced  the  service  of 
the  dead  by  way  of  consolation.  But  the  widow  kept 
on  lamenting  most  vociferously.  Hugues  raised  his 
voice  until  it  completely  drowned  hers.  When  he  had 
finished  the  service,  and  there  was  not  enough  comfort 
or  consolation  shown,  he  began  again  and  went  over  the 
same  form  a  second  time,  and  even  repeated  the  service 
the  third  time,  adding  also  a  part  of  that  to  the  Virgin. 
But  as  the  widow  showed  but  little  signs  of  comfort,  he 
advanced  just  before  her  and,  bowing  low,  wished  her 
"  the  compliments  of  the  day,"  and  said  that  he  would 
ask  Etienne  to  pray  that  she  might  have  another  hus- 
band very  soon  if  she  would  only  cease  crying.  This 


A   FUNERAL   IN  THE   MIDDLE  AGES.  89 

good  man  now  returned  to  Etienne  and  gave  an  account 
of  all  that  he  had  done  ;  and  when  he  told  how  three 
services  of  the  dead  and  one  of  the  Virgin  had  failed 
to  console  her,  and  of  the  promise  he  had  made  to 
ask  Etienne  to  pray  for  a  new  husband  speedily,  even 
Etienne  himself  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  his  favorite 
disciple. 

After  the  accident  messengers  were  sent  all  over  the 
surrounding  country  to  invite  the  lords  and  ladies  of  the 
different  castles  to  the  funeral.  A  funeral  service  was 
one  of  the  great  affairs  of  the  time,  and  it  was  not  often 
that  the  people  had  the  pleasure  of  attending  the  funeral 
of  a  lord.  It  was  one  of  the  gayeties  and  excitements 
of  life,  and  only  a  few  were  enjoyed  by  the  common 
people  in  a  generation.  As  soon  as  the  death  was 
known,  crowds  came  flocking  to  the  house  of  mourning, 
which  was  at  the  same  time  a  house  of  feasting.  The 
table  was  constantly  spread,  so  that,  while  many  might 
feel  a  regret  that  the  popular  Lord  of  Cocu  was  dead, 
it  gave  to  the  poorer  classes  a  chance  to  enjoy  some  of 
the  good  things  of  this  life.  Only  a  few  miles  distant 
(indeed,  the  properties  joined)  lived  the  Lord  of  Laur- 
iere.  This  lord  had  lost  his  wife  a  few  months  before, 
but  on  this  occasion  the  widower  of  a  few  months  took 
upon  himself  to  be  the  master  of  ceremonies.  He  was 
the  general  director  of  the  whole  affair.  As  soon  as  he 
received  the  news,  his  face  brightened,  and  he  lost  no 
time  in  hastening  over  to  Cocu  to  condole.  He  bade 
the  distracted  widow  not  to  trouble  herself  about  any- 
thing, that  he  would  see  to  all ;  and  he  at  once  began  to 
prepare  for  the  great  day  of  the  funeral.  All  the  gentry 
of  the  center  of  France  were  expected,  and  a  dinner 
worthy  of  the  dead  lord  must  be  provided.  The  widow 
gave  the  keys  into  his  hands  and  bade  him  do  as  he 
wished.  He  was  ever  coming  to  the  widow  for  advice, 


QO  GRANDMONT. 

and  would  consult  with  her  about  many  things,  and  she 
could  always  dry  her  tears  long  enough  to  talk  with  him. 
Finally,  the  set  time  for  the  funeral  arrived. 
There  was  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  and  many  of  the 
neighboring  lords  with  their  retinues,  but  most  con- 
spicuous of  all  was  the  Lord  of  Lauriere.  He  escorted 
the  widow  as  far  as  was  allowable,  for  the  custom  was 
that  the  male  and  female  mourners  walk  in  separate 
bodies  ;  but  the  lord  was  the  last  of  the  male  and  the 
widow  was  the  first  of  the  female.  After  very  imposing 
ceremonies  at  the  cemetery,  as  well  as  at  the  church  of 
Ambazac,  the  cortege  returned  to  the  castle.  Here  a 
most  sumptuous  dinner  was  served.  Wine  flowed  like 
water.  The  very  oldest  and  choicest  brands  were  brought 
out  by  Lauriere  and  dispensed  with  a  lavish  hand.  He 
urged  all,  and  most  especially  the  widow,  to  drink.  She 
would  not  at  first,  but  finally  yielded.  The  wine  had 
its  effect.  The  whole  company  began  to  have  their  sor- 
row so  thoroughly  drowned  that  it  was  now  almost  as  if 
it  had  never  been.  Lauriere  had  not  spared  the  wine 
nor  neglected  himself  in  its  indulgence.  As  the  feast 
continued,  the  feelings  became  brighter.  At  length  the 
lord  could  wait  no  longer.  He  saw  the  widow  com- 
forted and  cheered,  and  he  felt  that  his  time  had  come 
to  speak.  So,  clearing  his  throat,  he  began  :  "  Friends 
and  neighbors !  It  is  only  a  few  months  ago  that  I  was 
called  to  pass  through  a  sorrow  similar  to  that  which 
our  dear  sister,  Lady  Cocu,  now  suffers.  What  I  have 
had  to  pass  through  since  then  I  dare  not  tell.  [Here 
Lady  Cocu  began  again  to  weep  and  moan.]  But  I  want 
to  shield  our  lady  from  all  of  this.  I  want  her  never  to 
know  the  loneliness  of  widowhood.  [Here  Lady  Cocu 
dropped  her  handkerchief.]  Yes,  I  want  to  take  her 
now  to  Lauriere,  and  I  ask  her  here  that  you  all  may  be 
witnesses.  You  know  that  there  is  much  danger  for  a 


A  FUNERAL   IN   THE   MIDDLE   AGES.  Ql 

poor,  unprotected  female  in  these  perilous  times.  [Here 
Lady  Cocu  shivered  as  if  in  anticipation.]  Who  knows 
what  might  happen  if  she  were  left  alone  ?  [All  were 
silent,  and  many  nodded  assent  to  the  lord's  eloquence.] 
And  now  I  ask  you,  Lady  Cocu,  will  you  now  consent 
to  share  the  fortunes  of  Lauriere  and  end  your  widow- 
hood?" 

The  lady  blushed  and  said,  "  It  is  so  sudden  I  do  not 
know  what  to  do." 

Hugues,  who  was  one  of  the  guests,  but  had  not  par- 
taken of  the  wine,  said,  "  I  knew  Etienne's  prayers  would 
be  answered  soon." 

Several  friends  of  both  parties  advised  Lady  Cocu  to 
accept ;  so  she  finally  said,  "  I  am  sure  I  could  not  get 
along  alone,  and  his  lordship  has  been  so  kind  I  cannot 
refuse." 

Then  all  had  to  drink  again  and  again  until  all  were 
merry.  A  priest  was  sent  for  the  next  day,  and  a  very 
hard  contract  was  drawn  up  ;  but  as  the  dead  lord  left  a 
son  who  was  almost  of  age,  he  received  the  estate, 
though  the  bargain  was  one  that  greatly  favored 
Lauriere.  The  guests  were  all  invited  to  remain  to 
the  wedding,  which  took  place  just  three  days  after  the 
funeral.  The  wedding  feast  was  a  repetition  of  the 
funeral  festivities,  and  at  their  close  the  bride  and  groom 
went  to  Lauriere,  the  lord  remarking  as  he  went,  "  That 
fall  of  Cocu's  was  a  lucky  affair  for  me." 

On  entering  the  new  home  the  bride  saw  a  new 
broom  placed  by  the  door.  This  she  seized  and  began 
to  sweep  most  vigorously,  as  it  was  a  sign  that  she 
would  be  a  good  housewife.  A  few  weeks  passed,  and 
excepting  that  frequent  mistakes  were  made  in  names, 
no  one  would  have  thought  but  that  what  was  once 
Lady  Cocu  had  always  been  Lady  Lauriere, 


02  GRANDMONT. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

KNIGHT      AND      MONK. 

AT  a  little  distance  from  the  old  tower  of  Chalus,* 
guarding  a  pass  through  which  ran  the  highway 
between  the  cities  of  central  and  western  France,  was 
the  castle  of  Montbrun. 

The  Lord  of  Montbrun  was  exceedingly  friendly  to 
the  monks  of  Grandmont,  and,  as  Hugues  was  well 
known  to  all  the  neighboring  lords,  it  was  usual,  when  a 
visit  needed  to  be  made,  to  send  the  former  Lord  of 
Chalus  on  the  mission.  It  was  customary  for  lords  and 
wealthy  owners  of  estates  to  make  certain  gifts  of  land, 
servants,  or  money  to  the  monks  that  they  held  in  the 
greatest  esteem.  Especially  when  a  crime  had  been 
committed  against  the  Church,  or  one  intended,  was  it 
the  proper  thing  to  make  a  gift  to  their  favorite  mon- 
astery. 

For  example,  when  the  Vicomte  of  Comborn,  after 
committing  all  kinds  of  evil  imaginable,  had  one  day  in 
the  heat  of  passion  killed  twelve  monks  who  had  dared  to 
oppose  certain  wishes,  shortly  afterward,  frightened  by 
the  menaces  of  the  Church,  he  came  to  the  Bishop  of 
Limoges  and  made  over  certain  lands  to  found  an  ab- 
bey for  the  Benedictines  at  Maynac.  He  also  gave  a 
chapel  at  Genest  to  St.  Martin,  and  having  done  this  he 
felt  that  he  had  wiped  out  the  stain  of  blood  and  had 

*  Within  the  last  few  years  the  noble  count  has  at  great  expense  re- 
stored the  old  castle,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  original  design, 
and  to-day  its  massive  walls,  three  meter  at  the  base  and  two  and  a 
half  at  the  top,  sixty  feet  above,  is  a  living  monument  to  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  past. 


KNIGHT  AND  MONK.  95 

indulgence  enough  left  over  to  commit  many  more 
crimes  if  occasion  offered. 

But  the  Lord  of  Montbrun  had  sent  to  Etienne  to  say 
that  there  were  certain  things  at  his  disposal  any  time 
that  he  would  send  for  them.  So  one  morning  after  the 
sunrise  mass  Hugues  was  called  into  the  cell  of  his 
master  and  requested  to  go  to  Montbrun  to  obtain  what 
the  lord  of  that  castle  had  placed  at  their  disposal.  As 
certain  supplies  were  needed,  and  as  the  seignior  had 
intimated  that  his  gift  was  one  hundred  sous,  it  was 
well  worth  going  after.  Hugues,  after  assuring  Etienne 
of  his  willingness  to  go,  at  once  took  his  huge  staff, 
which  was  his  only  baggage,  and  started  on  the  road, 
expecting  to  make  a  very  speedy  trip. 

He  paid  his  respects  to  his  former  castle  on  the  way, 
but  would  not  rest  in  it  all  night.  He  said  he  did  not 
like  to  stay  around  the  place  where  the  devil  so  often 
had  led  him  into  wickedness ;  and  after  simply  enter- 
ing to  pray  that  his  sins  might  be  forgiven,  he  went  on 
the  little  distance  to  Montbrun.  He  arrived  just  as  the 
sun  was  going  down,  and  had  barely  time  to  step  over 
the  drawbridge  before  it  was  drawn  up,  and  as  the 
portcullis  fell  it  meant  that  Hugues  was  to  remain  in 
the  castle  all  night.  This  was  contrary  to  his  intentions ; 
but  as  the  very  long  walk  had  somewhat  fatigued  him,  he 
consented,  but  refused  every  dainty  that  was  offered  and 
made  his  simple  supper  of  chestnuts  and  milk. 

The  former  Lord  of  Chalus  was  a  very  different  man 
from  what  he  had  been  when  last  he  dined  at  Mont- 
brun. Then  he  drank  more  red  wine  than  any  other 
three  at  the  table,  and  his  brawny  fist  had  come  down 
with  so  much  force  that  he  broke  a  piece  off  the  board. 
He  thrashed  two  of  the  servants,  growled  at  everybody, 
and  was  a  terror  to  all.  Now,  to  see  that  man  refusing 
not  only  wine,  but  also  all  kinds  of  meat  when  there  was 


96  GRANDMONT. 

a  roast  sheep  on  the  bill  of  fare,  made  not  only  the  Lord 
of  Montbrun,  but  also  the  servants,  wonder. 

After  the  dinner,  at  the  assembly  of  the  castle,  Hu- 
gues  repeated  the  service  for  the  dead,  and  after,  as  was 
his  invariable  custom,  regretting  that  there  was  no 
cemetery  to  walk  around,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  re- 
tire, which  was  granted. 

Hugues  had  petitioned  his  host  that  he  might  leave 
at  sunrise  the  next  morning.  The  Lord  of  Montbrun 
gave  him  the  one  hundred  sous  for  Etienne,  and  in  re- 
turn received  the  blessing  of  Hugues,  for  nothing  ever 
touched  the  monk  so  much  as  to  receive  some  gift  for,  or 
hear  praise  spoken  of,  his  good  master.  After  thanking 
the  benefactor  most  heartily,  he  retired  and  took  his 
leave,  saying  that  as  soon  as  the  drawbridge  was  lowered 
in  the  morning  he  would  resume  his  homeward  journey, 
for  he  was  sure  Etienne  had  need  of  the  money.  So, 
after  kind  expressions  on  both  sides  the  sturdy  monk 
went  to  his  chamber,  and  after  his  customary  devotions 
fell  asleep,  awakening  at  midnight  for  his  prayers  and 
sleeping  again  until  sunrise,  when  he  arose  and  hastily 
left  the  castle  for  the  return  journey. 

The  castle  had  been  filled  with  guests.  Among  others 
were  three  lawless  vassals,  who  had  seen  the  lord  of 
the  castle  give  Hugues  the  money,  and  who  had  made  up 
their  minds  to  get  it  from  him.  A  few  minutes  after 
Hugues  left  these  three  villians  started  in  pursuit  of  the 
monk.  Hugues  left  the  highway  and  followed  the  woods 
so  as  to  make  a  shorter  cut  and  reach  the  road  a  few 
leagues  farther  on.  He  had  another  reason  for  doing 
this.  He  was  unlike  many  of  the  pharisaical  monks  of 
that  period,  who  liked  to  be  found  praying  by  the  road- 
side ;  but  he  sought  to  perform  his  devotions  alone  or 
else  in  company  with  his  brother  monks. 

The  three  rogues,  one  of  whom,  was  a  knight  and  the 


KNIGHT  AND   MONK.  97 

two  others  his  servants,  followed  Hugues  at  a  distance, 
trying  to  avoid  being  seen  by  the  man  they  meant  to 
rob.  The  person  who  planned  this  robbery,  and  for 
whose  benefit  it  was  to  be  committed,  was  Robert  de 
Nevers,  a  petty  baron,  who  had  squandered  much  of 
his  estate  in  debauchery,  and  was  now  an  adventurer, 
seeking  whom  he  might  destroy.  Hugues  seemed  to 
him  an  easy  prey,  and  the  one  hundred  sous  was  just 
what  Robert  needed  to  make  square  certain  very  press- 
ing accounts  that  the  Lord  of  Chalus  had  against 
him,  and  as  this  castle  would  be  on  the  road  which 
Hugues,  who  was  traveling  toward  Ambazac,  would  fol- 
low, he  said  to  his  vassals,  "  We  will  let  the  old  bare- 
head  carry  the  money  as  far  as  he  goes  our  way,  to  save 
us  the  trouble,  and  then  we  will  relieve  him  of  it." 

Now  after  several  hours'  rapid  walking  (for  Hugues 
kept  up  a  good  pace  and  tired  out  his  pursuers,  of 
whose  presence  he  was  unconscious),  coming  to  a  large 
oak,  the  monk  sat  down  for  a  moment's  rest ;  then,  setting 
up  his  cross,  he  began  his  devotions.  The  first  was  the 
office  to  the  Virgin.  He  had  just  completed  this,  and  was 
about  to  begin  the  service  of  the  dead,  when  the  villains, 
who  had  been  following  him,  thought  that  the  most  fa- 
vorable opportunity  for  their  attack  had  arrived.  One 
of  them  with  a  heavy  cudgel  stole  up  carefully  behind 
the  monk  as  he  was  praying  and  gave  him  a  tremendous 
blow  on  the  side  of  his  head  that  felled  him  to  the 
ground,  leaving  him  unconscious  for  a  moment.  The 
robbers  thought  that  they  could  take  his  silver — they 
did  not  care  for  his  life — and  be  off  before  he  would 
come  to  his  senses ;  so  they  at  once  began  to  search  for 
the  money. 

Hugues  had  rolled  it  up  and  fastened  it  in  a  peculiar 
way,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  get  at  his  body  before 
they  could  reach  the  money.  Hugues  had  received 


98  GRANDMONT. 

many  such  blows  in  his  life,  and  it  was  no  new  thing  for 
him.  He  came  to  his  senses  very  soon,  and  with  a  vio- 
lent spring  threw  his  two  assailants  to  the  ground,  and 
before  they  could  rise  he  had  seized  his  good  staff  and 
with  several  quick  blows  stretched  them  bleeding  and 
senseless  on  the  ground. 

The  knight  at  the  onset  had  conveniently  hidden 
himself,  so  that  the  two  vassals  were  the  only  ones  seen 
by  Hugues,  who  thought  that  they  were  the  sole  per- 
sons with  whom  he  had  to  deal.  The  blows  struck  by 
the  powerful  hand  had  been  harder  than  intended,  but 
the  idea  of  losing  the  money  that  had  been  given  to 
Etienne  so  aroused  all  the  righteous  indignation  of 
Hugues  that  he  struck  with  all  of  his  tremendous 
force,  as  the  broken  skulls  of  his  assailants  bore  witness. 
Hugues,  not  seeing  them  make  any  signs  of  returning 
consciousness,  began  to  examine  them,  and  to  his  sur- 
prise and  horror  saw  that  the  blows  had  been  fatal. 
He  knelt  down  by  their  sides  and  began  doing  all  that 
he  could  to  restore  them,  but  only  a  few  groans  were 
his  reward  ;  and  while  he  was  yet  praying  over  them 
and  trying  to  confess  them,  they  both  expired. 

In  the  meantime  Robert  had  watched  the  whole  scene 
from  his  hiding  place.  Now  he  came  out,  and,  as  if 
greatly  surprised,  called  aloud: 

"  Hello,  old  barehead  !  What  are  you  doing  ?  Ha,  ha  ! 
I  have  caught  you,  old  murderer,  lurking  under  a  monk's 
garb  and  lying  in  wait  to  kill  and  rob  innocent  passers-by." 

Robert  drew  his  sword  and  was  advancing  threateningly 
toward  Hugues,  who  instinctively  seized  the  staff  that 
had  already  done  such  bloody  work,  and  on  whose 
heavy  gnarled  sides  were  telltale  stains  from  the  last 
fray.  Robert  drew  back  prudently  as  he  saw  that  cudg- 
el in  the  hand  of  the  giant,  for  he  had  no  mind  to  face 
the  same  death  that  he  had  seen  dealt  out  to  his  vassals. 


KNIGHT  AND    MONK.  99 

Hugues  said  :  "You  mistake  me,  Sir  Knight.  I  was  at 
my  devotions  here  by  this  tree,  where  you  can  still  see 
my  cross  affixed,  when  one  of  these  wretches  (may  God 
have  mercy  on  their  souls  now  in  purgatory  !)  gave  me  a 
stunning  blow  with  that  club ;  "  and  he  pointed  to  the 
club  and  instinctively  felt  of  the  lump  on  the  side  of  his 
head.  "They  were  in  the  very  act  of  taking  from  me  the 
money  that  I  am  bearing  from  the  Lord  of  Montbrun  as 
a  gift  to  Abbot  Etienne  of  Grandmont.  As  soon  as  I 
had  recovered,  I  defended  myself  so  well  that  these  two 
thieves  are  dead  (may  their  sins  be  forgiven  !),  and  I 
was  in  the  act  of  praying  them  out  a  pardon  when  you 
came  along  and  interrupted  me." 

"  A  fine  story  you  have  made  up,  old  man,  when  I 
saw  you  with  my  own  eyes  robbing  the  bodies  of  the  two 
unarmed  men  whom  you  have  slain,"  sneeringly  replied 
Robert,  who  still  kept  at  a  respectful  distance  from 
Hugues,  so  that  he  might  run  if  necessary,  taking 
good  care  that  the  staff  should  not  reach  him.  "  Show 
me  the  money  that  you  were  carrying  and  I  will  believe 
you." 

Hugues,  who  was  as  innocent  as  a  child,  and  who  had 
no  more  fear  than  a  stone,  immediately  opened  the  folds 
of  the  garment  and  showed  the  one  hundred  sous  that 
he  had  received  from  his  host  of  the  night  before. 

"  Give  me  the  money,  and  we  will  go  over  to  the  castle 
of  Solignac  near  here  and  have  the  matter  arranged." 

"  No,"  said  Hugues,  "  that  money  does  not  leave  this 
hand  until  it  is  given  to  Etienne,  unless  you  succeed  in 
withdrawing  every  drop  of  blood  from  my  body ;  "  and 
the  eyes  of  Hugues  flashed  as  he  spoke,  boding  no  good 
to  the  one  that  should  make  the  attempt. 

Robert  had  no  desire  to  follow  his  vassals  to  the  other 
world ;  so  he  did  not  attempt  to  take  it  by  force,  but  he 
said,  with  a  brusque  voice  :  "  Do  not  think  me  a  robber 


100  GRANDMONT. 

like  yourself.  I  do  not  want  your  monkish  blood  on  my 
soul  ;  but  come,  let  us  go  to  the  castle.  You  will  have 
to  suffer  the  just  punishment  of  your  murder  and  rob- 
bery ;  and  as  for  your  story  about  being  beset  by  these 
two  innocent  tradesmen,  it  is  a  finely  gotten  up  lie,  for  I 
saw  you  take  the  money  from  them  myself." 

This  was  too  much  for  Hugues.  He  started  in  pursuit 
of  Robert,  who  turned  and  fled,  and,  being  younger  and 
lighter  on  foot  than  his  adversary,  easily  kept  out  of  his 
way. 

The  course  that  Robert  took  was  for  the  old  castle 
of  Solignac.  The  lord  of  the  place  was  out  hunting  that 
morning,  and,  seeing  Robert  running,  called,  "  Stop, 
stranger !  "  Robert  hastened  to  him  and  told  him  how 
he  had  seen  a  horrible  murder  committed  on  his  do- 
main by  a  man  dressed  as  a  monk,  who  was  seeking  to 
rob  all  who  passed,  and  that  he  had  just  escaped  with 
his  life.  He  was  sure  there  must  be  a  band  of  these 
murderous  thieves  disguised  as  monks. 

He  had  not  finished  when  Hugues  came  up.  Robert 
cried  out,  "  Here  comes  the  murderer,"  at  the  same 
time  passing  to  the  other  side  of  the  Lord  of  Solignac. 

Solignac  knew  Hugues  and  addressed  him,  "  Sir 
Knight,  or  monk,  what  means  this?  " 

Hugues  then  repeated  the  whole  story  as  he  had  told 
it  to  Robert,  Robert  insisting  all  the  time  that  it  was  a 
lie  and  that  he  saw  Hugues  take  the  money  from  the 
bodies  of  the  two  men  whom  he  had  killed.  Robert 
was  a  knight,  and  at  once  declared  the  truth  of  his  ver- 
sion, swearing  on  his  sword.  Hugues  in  the  meantime 
told  his  story  in  a  plain,  unvarnished  way  as  at  first, 
only  stopping  to  ejaculate  from  time  to  time,  "  May 
God  have  mercy  on  their  souls!  " 

The  Lord  of  Solignac  was  sorely  perplexed  at  the 
contradictions,  and  the  earnestness  of  both  parties  made 


KNIGHT  AND   MONK.  IOI 

it  extremely  difficult  for  him  to  distinguish  the  truth. 
Hugues's  story  did  not  seem  to  be  very  probable,  while 
Robert's  had  much  more  plausibility  than  Hugues's. 
The  Lord  of  Montbrun  was  very  penurious,  and  one 
hundred  sous  was  more  than  any  ordinary  lord  would 
be  apt  to  give.  Beside,  Hugues  did  not  deny  the  killing 
of  the  men,  and  said  that  he  was  praying  over  them, 
while  Robert  said  he  was  searching  their  persons.  The 
matter  was  confounding.  How  could  the  truth  be  ar- 
rived at  ?  That  was  a  question  that  has  puzzled  greater 
judges  than  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  when  two  men  tell 
absolutely  contradictory  stories. 

Nowadays,  by  a  trial  in  which  questioning  has  been  re- 
duced to  a  fine  art,  the  truth  is  generally  dragged  out 
by  examinations  and  cross-examinations.  But  even  now, 
after  all  the  experience  of  men  since  the  first  blood  of 
Abel  was  poured  out  upon  the  ground,  there  is  much 
uncertainty,  and  often  the  innocent  are  condemned  and 
the  guilty  go  free. 

In  the  times  of  Etienne,  eight  hundred  years  ago, 
difficult  questions  were  settled  by  different  means. 
There  were  several  methods  by  which  men  sought  to 
determine  the  truth.  The  judicial  combat  was  one  to 
which  the  knight  appealed,  and  called  on  God  to  wit- 
ness for  the  truth.  Another  kind,  by  which  the  ecclesias- 
tics were  called  upon  to  prove  their  innocence,  was  the 
"  proof  by  irons."  The  person  accused,  after  fasting 
three  days,  attended  mass  on  the  third  morning  and  in 
a  loud  voice  swore  that  he  was  innocent.  After  he  had 
partaken  of  the  holy  communion,  the  priests  and  monks, 
chanting  lugubrious  hymns,  led  the  way  to  the  place  of 
trial.  There  the  accused  kissed  the  gospels,  drank  holy 
water,  and  sprinkled  himself  all  over  with  it,  especially 
his  hands  and  his  feet,  in  preparation  for  the  test.  Three 
things  had  to  be  done  :  First,  to  lift  a  bar  of  red-hot 


IO2  GRANDMONT. 

iron,  weighing  three  or  four  pounds,  three  times  to  the 
full  length  of  the  arm  ;  second,  to  put  the  hand  into  a 
red-hot  iron  glove  and  raise  it  to  the  top  of  the  head ; 
third,  to  walk  barefoot  over  seven  red-hot  swords,  fast- 
ened in  the  ground. 

This  "  proof  by  irons  "  Robert  called  upon  Hugues  to 
perform.  It  was  a  terrible  ordeal,  and  there  are  but  few 
cases  where  history  records  its  use.  One  of  the  most 
notable  was  that  of  the  monk  who  said  that  he  had  dis- 
covered the  head  of  the  lance  that  pierced  the  side  of 
Christ.  This  monk  had  a  dream,  he  said,  in  which  it 
was  revealed  that  in  a  given  place  the  lance  head  would 
be  discovered,  and  so  great  were  his  exhortations  that 
many  of  the  crusaders  dug  in  the  appointed  spot.  The 
first  day  passed  and  no  lance  head  was  found.  So  the 
second  passed.  They  were  getting  discouraged,  and  the 
monk  begged  for  one  day  more.  The  third  day  was 
drawing  to  a  close  when  the  monk  descended  into  the 
pit  and  began  to  dig.  At  the  third  blow  he  exclaimed, 
"  Glory  to  God  and  praise  to  the  Virgin  !  "  and  lifted  up 
the  head  of  a  lance.  It  was  afterward  denounced  by 
Count  Gregory  as  a  forgery,  and  the  monk  appealed  to  the 
test  by  iron,  to  which  he  submitted  and  declared  that 
he  came  through  it  without  harm,  though  he  died  three 
days  after,  probably  from  its  effects. 

In  this  case  Hugues  did  not  know  much  about  fire. 
He  had  applied  it  himself  most  successfully  to  Reuben 
and  Naphtali  after  their  relapse  into  sin,  but  for  himself 
he  declared  that  he  had  the  right  to  choose  the  test,  and 
immediately  declared  in  favor  of  the  judicial  combat,  or 
duel,  as  his  appeal  to  God. 

This  Robert  had  not  expected  and,  turning  away 
scornfully,  said  it  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  true 
knight  to  meet  as  an  equal  an  obscure  monk  who  was 
unworthy  of  his  steel.  He  said  that  Hugues  had  no 


KNIGHT  AND   MONK.  IO3 

right  to  do  anything  but  that  which  was  prescribed  by 
the  laws  of  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  waxed  eloquent 
over  the  fact  that  it  would  be  no  glory  for  him  to  kill  a 
monk  unused  to  arms. 

But  Hugues  said  he  was  willing  to  leave  the  matter 
with  God,  and  die  willingly  at  the  end  of  the  lance  of 
his  adversary  if  he  were  guilty.  But  the  knight,  Sir 
Robert,  stood  upon  his  ground  of  knighthood  and  said 
he  could  not  be  compelled  to  fight  a  monk. 

Now  the  Lord  of  Solignac  was  a  man  who  had  a  sense 
of  justice  in  his  head,  and  declared  that  Hugues,  as  the 
accused,  had  the  right  to  choose  the  test ;  that  the  claim 
of  Robert  that  it  would  be  contrary  to  the  dignity  of  his 
knighthood  to  meet  Hugues  on  the  field  of  judicial  com- 
bat was  ungrounded,  for  Hugues  was  as  good  a  knight 
as  he,  and  more  honorable,  as  he  had  been  the  Lord  of 
Chalus  ;  that  he  had  full  right  to  have  the  truth  proved 
by  an  appeal  to  God  such  as  he  chose.  He  therefore  or- 
dered that  both  be  taken  to  separate  dungeons  of  the  cas- 
tle and  locked  up  for  three  days,  giving  the  following 
order  :  "  Three  days  from  to-day,  one  hour  before  midday, 
you  two  shall  be  brought  out  to  the  court  of  the  castle. 
Thence  you  shall  go  to  the  chapel  and  make  your  oaths 
of  sincerity  and  innocence.  From  there  you  will  pro- 
ceed to  the  place  of  combat,  where  the  Judge  Almighty 
shall  decide  who  is  false  and  who  is  true." 

Hugues  bowed  his  satisfaction.  Robert  said  "  No," 
and  turned  to  go  away,  but  was  seized  by  the  guards  of 
Solignac  and  taken  to  the  dungeon  to  await  the  final 
trial.  Frightened  half  to  death  at  the  turn  of  affairs, 
Robert  sought  every  artifice  to  escape  the  issue.  One 
plan  came  near  being  a  success.  He  bribed  one  of  the 
servants  to  poison  the  wine  that  was  offered  to  Hugues. 
The  man  did  not  scruple  to  do  it,  but  fortunately 
Hugues  would  not  drink. 
1 


IO4  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   TRIAL   BY   BATTLE. 

AMONG  the  inmates  of  the  castle  were  certain  Bene- 
dictine monks,  friends  of  those  whose  heads  Hugues 
had  cracked  for  stealing  the  milk  of  Etienne's  cows. 
These  did  all  that  they  could  to  aid  and  encourage  Rob- 
ert by  telling  him  how  Hugues's  strength  must  be  weak- 
ened, for  they  said  that  he  was  accustomed  to  fast  and 
that  they  had  seen  him  shake  with  fear.  But  Robert, 
who  had  seen  the  effect  of  the  blows  of  the  ex-lord  on 
his  own  two  thieving  vassals,  had  no  desire  to  meet  the 
force  of  the  arm  that  had  such  power. 

The  third  day  came.  Hugues  had  already  repeated 
the  service  of  the  dead  and  walked  around  his  cell  three 
times,  while  Robert  had  been  drinking  the  most  strength- 
ening liquors  that  the  castle  possessed.  Hugues,  who 
had  full  confidence  in  the  justness  of  his  cause,  feared 
nothing,  and  had  no  more  dread  of  meeting  Sir  Robert 
than  he  would  of  meeting  a  sheep.  He  cherished  no  re- 
venge. Even  in  the  pursuit  of  Robert,  when  he  chased 
him  to  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  he  was  possessed  by  a  de- 
sire to  save  rather  than  destroy  his  enemy,  for  he  con- 
templated the  same  kind  of  conversion  that  he  had  ad- 
ministered to  his  two  former  penitents.  But  the  nimble 
feet  of  Robert  had  saved  him  from  conversion  for  a 
time.  Even  now  Hugues  was  trying  to  plan  some  way 
by  which  he  could  get  along  without  killing  his  adver- 
sary. 

In  the  interim  the  bodies  of  the  two  thieves  were 
brought  to  the  castle,  and,  on  being  searched,  there  was 


THE   TRIAL  BY   BATTLE.  10$ 

found  abundant  proof  that  they  were  in  the  employ  of 
Robert ;  and  the  fact  was  developed  that  they  had  not 
been  robbed,  for  in  their  pockets  were  found  a  few  sous, 
and  their  garments  were  not  deranged  as  they  would 
have  been  had  they  been  searched  for  money.  All  this 
told  greatly  in  Hugues's  favor.  But  the  Benedictines, 
whom  he  had  so  justly  punished,  were  now  anxious  to  be 
relieved  of  this  adversary.  Besides,  they  thought  that 
if  Hugues  were  killed  the  money  which  he  carried  would 
be  given  to  them  and  not  to  the  men  of  Grandmont,  and 
they  were  willing  to  do  all  that  they  could  to  aid 
Robert. 

The  holy  water  which  they  prepared  for  the  accused 
to  drink  was  well  doctored.  Hugues  was  not  sus- 
picious, and  he  was  saved  from  their  malice  by  accident, 
because  he  would  not  drink  the  holy  water,  but  simply 
crossed  himself  with  it.  Robert,  having  a  different  cup, 
drank  his  dry.  They  came  before  the  high  altar,  and 
on  the  crucifix,  surrounded  by  the  monks  and  priests  in 
full  sacerdotal  robes,  each  declared  himself  innocent 
and  swore  that  he  had  no  intent  to  employ  any  trick  or 
wile  unlawfully  against  his  adversary. 

Robert  took  this  opportunity  to  call  his  enemy  all 
kinds  of  vile  names  and  to  declare  that  as  a  liar  his  place 
was  in  the  lowest  region,  whither  he  vowed  he  would 
soon  send  him.  Hugues  simply  said,  "  God  knows  the 
truth  and  will  verify  the  same." 

The  preliminary  ceremonies  were  now  over.  The 
priests  and  monks  led  the  way  to  the  field  of  com- 
bat. This  was  a  level  place  outside  the  castle  walls, 
about  eighty  feet  long  by  forty  wide.  The  priests  were 
preceded  by  musicians,  and  all  the  inhabitants  and 
guards  of  the  castle  turned  out  to  witness  the  spec- 
tacle. Two  peasants  from  a  neighboring  village  joined 
the  assembly.  "  Tell  me,  Jacques,  which  is  it  that 


106  GRANDMONT. 

will  be  for  carrion,  the  long-robed  fellow  or  the 
knight?  " 

"  On  my  faith,  man,  had  you  half  an  eye,"  remarked 
Jacques,  "you  would  see  that  there  is  more  force  under 
that  old  cowl  than  there  is  in  half  a  dozen  such  as  comes 
under  the  visor  of  the  knight." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  other;  "  but  the  long  fasts  have 
made  him  weak,  and  he  will  fall  like  a  bullock  under  the 
butcher's  blow." 

"Ah,  no,"  said  Jacques;  "but  I'll  risk  a  year  in 
purgatory  that  the  knight  will  bellow  like  a  stricken 
calf  before  the  long-robed  fellow  has  been  at  him  an 
hour." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  flourish  of 
trumpets,  which  was  the  signal  for  the  marshal  to  read 
the  rules  of  the  contest  and  place  the  two  combatants  in 
position. 

At  this  point  there  was  a  loud  discussion,  Robert 
declaring  that  he  had  a  right  to  wear  his  coat  of  mail, 
his  armor,  and  his  sword,  and  insisting  that,  as  Hugues 
had  left  the  knighthood  for  the  monastery,  he  should 
have  only  his  robe,  cowl,  and  staff.  The  Lord  of  Solig- 
nac  said  that  on  his  grounds  two  adversaries  should 
stand  on  exactly  the  same  footing,  that  they  should  be 
armed  alike,  and  that,  as  there  was  no  armor  in  the  castle 
that  would  fit  Hugues,  both  men  should  appear  un- 
armed, and  God  would  help  the  one  who  was  in  the 
right. 

Robert  cried  out  against  this,  and  said  that  he  was 
not  receiving  the  treatment  which  belonged  to  him  as  a 
noble  knight,  but  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac  was  partial. 
To  which  the  said  lord  replied  by  throwing  down  his 
glove  as  a  challenge  to  Robert  to  meet  him  after  he  had 
beaten  Hugues. 

Robert  declared  that  he  would  not  fight  under  the 


THE   TRIAL   BY   BATTLE.  IO/ 

conditions  that  were  made.  "  Then,"  answered  the 
Lord  of  Solignac,  "  you  declare  yourself  guilty,  and  you 
will  be  executed  within  an  hour." 

Robert  changed  his  mind,  and  expressed  a  reluctant 
willingness  to  fight,  but  appealed  to  the  Virgin,  declar- 
ing that  he  was  innocent,  whereupon  all  the  Benedictine 
monks  began  a  chant  to  the  Virgin  to  help  him.  Two 
swords  were  brought,  and,  instead  of  the  judge  handing 
them  to  the  combatants,  the  monks,  under  pretense  of 
blessing  the  weapons  according  to  the  custom,  had 
taken  particular  pains  to  crack  the  sword  that  was  given 
to  Hugues,  so  that  the  slightest  pressure  would  snap  it 
in  two,  while  Robert's  sword  had  the  keenest  edge 
possible.  Hugues  was  too  experienced  a  man  to  ven- 
ture into  a  combat  without  carefully  examining  his 
weapon.  His  quick  eye  discovered  the  defect,  and, 
calling  the  attention  of  the  marshal  to  the  crack,  broke 
it  with  the  slightest  pressure.  The  monks  shouted, 
"  It  is  the  judgment  of  the  Virgin  against  this  hypocrite  ! 
It  is  God's  will  that  he  should  be  executed  immedi- 
ately, for  the  sword  was  whole  and  sound  when  it  left 
our  hands." 

But  the  Lord  of  Solignac  was  determined  to  see  fair 
play,  and  bade  the  Benedictines  be  silent.  Then  he 
called  for  the  broken  sword,  and  soon  saw  how  the  tem- 
per had  been  taken  out  of  it  by  subjecting  it  to  heat. 
The  marks  of  a  cold  chisel,  moreover,  were  very  plain. 
Stepping  into  the  court,  he  called  for  the  monks  who 
had  blessed  the  swords  to  come  before  him.  After  a 
long  inquiry  it  was  said  that  they  had  gone  on  a  mission 
of  mercy  to  another  convent,  leaving  the  place  as  soon 
as  that  ceremony  was  over.  Several  horsemen  were 
dispatched  in  pursuit  of  them,  but  they  were  never 
found.  The  fact  was,  the  whole  story  of  their  departure 
was  a  deception  in  order  to  have  the  conflict  put  off. 


108  GRANDMONT. 

Lord  Solignac  then  gave  the  order,  "  Let  no  one  leave 
my  grounds  without  my  express  consent ; "  and  the 
numerous  vassals  bowed,  giving  their  assurance  that  his 
will  would  be  enforced. 

Two  other  swords  were  brought.  Lord  Solignac  ex- 
amined them  both  and  declared  them  all  right.  Robert 
said  that  "  he  was  not  a  heathen,  and  he  would  not  fight 
with  a  sword  that  had  not  been  blessed." 

Lord  Solignac  replied,  "  Then  you  will  march  to  the 
gibbet,  where  your  cowardly  carcass  will  be  left  hang- 
ing to  feed  the  crows." 

There  was  nothing  left  now  but  to  come  to  the  fight. 
Robert  would  have  given  anything  in  the  world  to  have 
been  able  to  avoid  facing  Hugues,  who  stood  there 
calmly  listening  to  what  was  said  and  protesting  noth- 
ing against  all  of  Robert's  efforts  to  impose  upon  him 
and  take  improper  advantages.  He  allowed  the  Lord  of 
Solignac  to  have  his  own  way,  and  when  questioned  said 
that  he  was  willing  to  do  anything  that  the  judges  should 
deem  just. 

The  trumpets  again  sounded,  and  the  combatants 
were  brought  face  to  face.  The  signal  was  given,  and 
there  was  a  hush  over  the  whole  company.  Hugues  did 
not  even  cross  himself.  His  mind  was  too  occupied  with 
what  was  before  him  to  think  even  of  his  profession 
as  monk.  All  of  his  old  military  habits  came  back  to 
him,  and  he  took  the  attitude  of  defense  without  think- 
ing, just  as  naturally  as  one  winks.  The  action  was  en- 
tirely involuntary,  the  result  of  habit  and  custom  in  the 
many  combats  through  which  he  had  passed  during  the 
years  of  his  worldly  life. 

The  reader  may  think  that  Robert  was  no  match  for 
Hugues,  but  physically  there  was  not  very  much  differ- 
ence. Robert  was  large,  perhaps  taller  than  the  monk, 
besides  having  the  advantage  of  youth.  He  was  want- 


THE   TRIAL   BY   BATTLE.  ICX) 

ing,  however,  in  that  especial  make-up  that  develops  a 
man  of  strength  and  courage.  He  had  always  managed 
to  bluster  and  make  a  great  noise,  so  that,  for  one  rea- 
son or  another,  he  had  gotten  the  glory  of  victory  with- 
out ever  fighting.  Indeed,  he  was  at  heart  one  of  the 
most  servile  cowards  that  ever  grasped  a  sword,  but  he 
was  always  saying  what  he  could  do  if  his  enemy  were 
his  equal — if  he  were  as  large  a  man  as  himself,  if  he  were 
of  the  same  rank,  if  he  were  older  or  younger ;  but  he 
always  left  himself  a  convenient  excuse  to  creep  out  of 
an  actual  engagement.  Sometimes  his  bluster  and  bra- 
vado cowed  weaklings  into  submission,  but  his  general 
plan  was  to  do  as  he  did  when  seeking  to  rob  Hugues — 
hide  behind  a  thicket  and  get  others  to  rush  into  the 
danger,  and  if  they  were  successful  he  would  rush  up 
and  claim  the  whole  of  the  glory  and,  if  they  were 
beaten,  then  he  would  conveniently  disappear  or  come 
up  as  a  protector. 

In  the  case  of  Hugues  he  had  completely  missed  his 
mark.  He  thought  that  he  would  force  the  poor  monk 
to  have  his  hand  or  feet  ruined  by  the  test  of  fire,  and 
then,  by  crying  out  for  execution,  he  would  have  claimed 
the  money  and  the  glory  of  unearthing  a  robber. 

But  when  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  well- 
known  knight,  whose  prowess  on  the  field  had  been 
shown  in  a  hundred  places,  and  when  he  had  the  convinc- 
ing evidence  before  his  own  eyes  that  Hugues's  arm  was 
not  yet  palsied  by  seeing  the  two  strong  vassals  laid  low 
by  his  club,  he  sank  down  on  the  ground  before  his  adver- 
sary and  began  to  howl,  saying  that  he  had  been  poi- 
soned, and  making  as  though  he  was  writhing  in  the  most 
terrible  agony.  Lord  Solignac  was  thoroughly  disgusted, 
and  said  the  best  thing  in  such  a  case  was  bleeding,  and 
rushed  over  to  the  groveling  knight  and  pricked  him  with 
his  sword,  saying,  "  Get  up  and  fight  or  go  to  the  gallows  ! " 


IIO  GRANDMONT. 

He  ordered  his  vassals  to  march  forward  and  lead 
him  to  the  gallows.  At  this  Robert  now  said  he  felt 
better,  but  asked  for  the  fight  to  be  postponed. 

"  On  no  account,"  answered  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  at 
the  same  time  ordering  him  either  to  fight  then  and 
there  or  be  hung.  The  choice  seemed  very  nearly 
even  for  Robert.  Meanwhile  Hugues,  who  was  wait- 
ing, put  his  cross  on  the  sword,  which  he  stuck  in  the 
ground,  and  began  a  service  of  the  dead,  much  to 
the  fear  of  Robert,  while  the  Benedictines  said  that  he 
was  reciting  his  own  funeral  service,  and  bade  the  cow- 
ard take  courage.  Hugues  had  just  half  finished  when 
the  field  was  again  cleared,  and  the  trumpets  sounded 
the  signal  to  begin,  and  the  foes  were  left  to  fight  out 
the  truth. 

The  moment  the  signal  was  given  this  third  time 
Robert  made  a  dash  at  Hugues  with  an  impetuosity  that 
would  almost  have  knocked  down  an  elephant.  But 
Hugues  braced  himself,  and  by  a  skillful  twist  not  only 
warded  off  the  blow,  but  threw  the  sword  out  of  his  en- 
emy's hand.  Many  shouted,  "  Bravo !  "  Robert,  who 
fell  prone  upon  the  ground,  expected  every  moment  to 
have  Hugues's  sword  thrust  through  him,  and  he  lay 
there  bellowing  like  a  bull  with  a  knife  in  his  throat,  al- 
though there  was  not  a  scratch  on  him,  Hugues  stand- 
ing off  a  little  distance  asking  him  if  he  was  hurt. 

At  a  sign  from  the  judge  one  of  the  vassals  ran 
over  to  the  fallen  man  and  examined  him.  Robert 
screamed,  "  I  am  dying,  I  am  dying  !  That  son  of  in- 
iquity has  employed  his  infernal  arts  against  me.  I  am 
dying  !"  But  not  a  drop  of  blood,  not  a  scratch  could 
be  discovered  on  him  except  where  the  Lord  of  Solignac 
had  pricked  him  with  his  sword.  Again  he  was  ordered 
to  get  up  or  go  to  the  gallows.  When  he  arose,  trem- 
bling, the  judge,  turning  to  Hugues,  said  : 


THE   TRIAL  BY   BATTLE.  Ill 

"  You  have  the  right  to  a  blow  equal  to  that  which  he 
struck  at  you.  Now  take  it  if  you  will." 

Hugues  answered  : 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  take  any  advantage  of  the 
wretch.  May  God  forgive  his  sins  and  save  his  soul! 
Give  him  his  sword." 

Once  more  the  men  were  brought  face  to  face.  Rob- 
ert began  another  way.  He  sought  to  run  around 
Hugues,  being  much  younger  and  more  nimble  on  his 
feet,  and  give  him  a  thrust  from  behind.  Indeed,  he  did 
give  Hugues  a  scratch  below  the  waist  that  put  the  older 
man  on  his  mettle.  Hugues  quickly  turned  and,  chang- 
ing his  attitude  of  defense,  followed  up  the  attack.  In 
another  minute  there  were  two  quick  sword  cuts,  and  both 
of  the  arms  of  the  cowardly  Robert  fell  bleeding  to  the 
ground,  while  the  wretch  himself  dropped  on  his  knees, 
and,  lifting  up  his  bleeding  stumps,  cried  like  a  whipped 
child  for  pardon,  and  confessed  before  the  whole  multi- 
tude his  crime  and  told  the  whole  truth — how  he  had 
coveted  the  money  and  urged  his  two  vassals  to  commit 
the  crime,  and  then  how  he  had  persecuted  Hugues 
with  the  hope  of  getting  the  money. 

It  was  enough.  Hugues  was  on  his  knees  in  a  mo- 
ment trying  to  bind  up  the  wounds,  but  the  Lord  of 
Solignac  said  it  was  no  use ;  and  in  spite  of  all  the  en- 
treaties of  Hugues  and  the  protests  of  the  Benedictines, 
who  were  sure  that  Hugues  had  employed  some  black 
art  that  was  forbidden  by  the  laws,  Robert,  bleeding  and 
moaning,  was  hurried  away  to  the  gallows,  Hugues 
begging  for  his  life  and  doing  all  in  his  power  to  save 
him,  pardoning  him  of  all  his  sins  and  granting  him  full 
forgiveness.  The  other  monks  followed,  chanting  their 
most  solemn  hymns  and  glowering  on  Hugues  their 
most  savage  looks.  Indeed,  he  thought  he  felt  a  blow, 
and,  turning  quickly,  saw  a  monk  hide  a  dagger  in  his 


112  GRANDMONT. 

gown.  Seizing  the  fellow  by  the  throat,  he  made  him 
throw  down  the  weapon,  and,  seeing  his  own  garment 
cut,  knew  that  the  point  of  the  instrument  of  death  had 
only  been  kept  from  his  body  by  the  coins  of  the  Lord 
of  Montbrun. 

Lord  Solignac  saw  the  action  and  ordered  another 
rope  on  the  gallows  for  the  monk,  who  said  that  he  had 
no  intent  to  kill  Hugues,  but  wished  to  see  whether  he 
was  the  evil  one  or  not.  But  all  was  in  vain  ;  he  was 
placed  beside  Robert,  and  in  another  moment,  after  the 
prayers  were  ended,  they  both  were  swung  into  eternity, 
while  the  monks  and  witnesses  were  shouting  prayers 
and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  sprinkling  holy 
water  all  around,  and  raging  like  madmen. 

Hugues  felt  very  badly  and  fasted,  incessantly  re- 
peating prayers,  not  only  for  the  two  thieves  whom  he 
had  killed,  but  for  these  two  who  had  sought  his  life. 

It  was  the  intention  of  the  Lord  of  Solignac  to  leave 
their  bodies  hanging  there,  but  Hugues  joined  with  the 
others  in  asking  for  a  Christian  burial,  and  their  request 
was  granted.  On  examining  the  bodies  it  was  found 
that  the  vulnerable  parts  of  the  person  of  Robert  were 
carefully  protected  by  pieces  of  metal  and  plates  of 
steel  that  would  have  saved  him  from  sword  thrusts  ; 
these  had  been  given  him  by  the  monks.  On  the 
body  of  the  Benedictine  was  found  a  notice  intended 
for  Robert,  saying  that  he  had  poisoned  the  holy  water 
that  Hugues  was  to  drink,  and  assuring  him  that  no 
effort  would  be  left  unemployed  to  destroy  his  enemy. 

When  these  things  were  brought  before  the  Lord  of 
Solignac,  he  ordered  an  investigation.  The  Benedic- 
tines saw  that  they  were  discovered,  and  at  once 
began  to  deny  the  whole  truth  and  make  Hugues  out 
a  hero  and  praise  the  Virgin  for  proving  the  inno- 
cence of  the  monk.  They  also  praised  his  Christian 


THE   TRIAL  BY   BATTLE.  113 

spirit  and  said  many  pleasant  things  about  him,  and  at 
the  same  time  bribed  several  to  swear  that  the  monk 
just  hung  had  been  a  kind  of  lunatic,  that  the  letter 
was  a  forgery,  that  all  the  Benedictines  had  been  pray- 
ing for  the  success  of  Hugues  all  of  the  time,  and  that 
he  had  been  saved  by  their  intercessions  with  the  saints. 
All  of  this  they  repeated  to  Hugues,  who  simply  thanked 
them. 

Lord  Solignac  wished  to  make  a  great  feast  in 
Hugues's  honor,  but  the  latter  declined.  Then  the  noble 
lord  promised  to  give  what  the  feast  would  cost  to  the 
Abbot  of  Grandmont.  To  this  Hugues  yielded,  and, 
kneeling  down,  he  thanked  Solignac  for  what  he  had  done 
for  him  and  prayed  for  his  salvation  and  prosperity. 
Then,  asking  to  be  dismissed,  even  though  the  sun  was 
setting,  permission  was  given  and  he  departed,  but  not 
before  he  was  burdened  with  another  one  hundred  sous 
for  his  dear  Etienne,  a  gift  from  the  Lord  of  Solignac  in 
testimony  of  the  bravery  and  courage  of  the  faithful 
monk  Hugues,  whom  the  saints  had  vindicated. 

A  number  of  the  Benedictines  offered  to  accompany 
the  hero  on  his  way,  but  Hugues  said,  4i  No,  I  thank 
you;  with  God  and  this  staff  I  fear  nothing."  And  when 
they  insisted,  he  appealed  to  the  lord  to  keep  them  at 
home,  which  he  did,  threatening  them  in  a  way  that 
made  them  afraid  to  go  farther  with  their  intentions, 
for  their  malice  was  so  great  that  when  one  way  to 
destroy  Hugues  was  closed  another  one  was  sought. 
Baffled  at  every  point,  they  saw  the  object  of  their  ha- 
tred depart  with  glory,  unscathed,  and  with  a  rich  offer- 
ing for  his  master  which  they  coveted  in  vain. 


1 14  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HUGUES   RETURNS   TO    GRANDMONT. 

THE  excitement  of  the  last  four  days  had  been  so 
great  for  Hugues,  who  was  accustomed  to  quietness 
and  routine  in  his  mountain  retreat,  that  he  hardly  knew 
whether  he  was  walking  on  the  earth  or  in  the  air.  His 
heart  was  much  more  touched  for  the  two  thieves  than 
for  the  two  men  who  had  perished  on  the  gallows.  His 
conscience  was  not  so  easily  satisfied  on  that  point,  and 
many  a  time  on  his  way  home,  as  he  walked  in  the  dark- 
ness, would  he  stop  and  repeat  the  service  of  the  dead, 
and  he  ended  every  prayer  or  chant  with  the  words, 
"  May  God  have  mercy  on  their  souls ! " 

The  night  was  something  terrible.  One  of  those  fear- 
ful storms  that  rage  around  the  mountains  of  the  Limou- 
sin was  sweeping  the  country.  Hugues  had  fasted  for 
nearly  twenty-four  hours,  but  still  he  was  so  accustomed 
to  long  periods  of  abstinence  from  food  that  he  went  on, 
only  feeling  a  slight  weakness.  The  blinding  rain  only 
helped  to  cool  his  brow.  Now  and  then  he  would  stop 
and,  holding  up  his  cross,  repeat  a  part  of  the  service  for 
the  dead,  thinking  that  in  the  repetition  of  those  words 
there  was  some  virtue  for  the  souls  just  departed  ;  but 
seldom  did  he  think  of  himself.  True,  his  conscience 
was  not  easy  on  account  of  the  thieves,  but  there  were 
different  sides  from  which  to  look  at  it.  He  relieved 
his  mind  by  saying  that  he  would  go  and  confess  all 
to  Etienne.  This  he  kept  repeating  to  himself,  and 
he  would  do  whatever  Etienne  said  was  best ;  for  as 
a  little  child,  who  has  a  great  desire  to  do  what  is 


HUGUES    RETURNS  TO    GRANDMONT.  115 

right,  but  is  puzzled  over  some  matter  that  seems  to 
present  contradictions  to  the  infant  mind,  satisfies  him- 
self by  saying,  "  I  will  ask  mother  ;  she  will  tell  me  all 
that  I  wish  to  know,"  so  this  giant  Hugues  confided 
everything  that  puzzled  his  conscience  to  his  master, 
whom  he  loved  with  all  the  tenderness  that  a  child  loves 
its  mother. 

Not  one  moment  of  rest  did  the  weary  plodder  take. 
His  brow  was  throbbing ;  it  seemed  as  if  there  were 
fire  within  his  robe,  and  the  rain  beat  down  with  un- 
ceasing violence,  retarding  but  not  stopping  his  prog- 
ress. He  continued  keeping  to  the  highway.  Now 
and  then,  as  he  passed  through  the  forest,  he  heard 
the  howl  of  wolves,  which  sometimes  came  so  near  that 
he  could  hear  the  snap  of  their  bloodthirsty  jaws.  Still 
he  did  not  fear  nor  heed  them.  His  mind  was  too  full, 
his  heart  overflowing,  and  he  hastened  on  to  reach  his 
master's  cell. 

It  was  long  past  sunrise  when  Grandmont  greeted  the 
fever-stricken  traveler.  His  weary  limbs  refused  to  go 
any  faster,  but  he  urged  them  as  a  driver  urges  on  his 
steeds  that  have  already  done  their  utmost. 

The  morning  masses  were  ended,  and  there  was  a 
little  rest  for  prayer  before  the  other  service  com. 
menced.  Just  at  this  moment  Hugues  dragged  himself 
into  the  cell  of  Etienne.  He  did  not  say  a  word,  but 
drew  from  his  robes  the  one  hundred  sous  from  Mont- 
brun  and  the  one  hundred  from  Solignac,  and,  placing 
them  on  Etienne's  lap,  sank  down  exhausted  on  the 
floor. 

Etienne,  supposing  that  it  was  only  fatigue,  began  to 
chide  his  follower  in  a  kindly  tone  for  exposing  him- 
self to  the  elements.  "My  brother,"  he  said;  "it  is  as 
unlawful  for  us  to  take  our  lives  by  exposure  as  it  would 
be  to  take  them  by  violence."  Then,  feeling  of  the  hot 


Il6  GRANDMONT. 

head  and  getting  no  response  from  the  silent  form,  whose 
feverish  breath  came  quicker  than  before,  he  realized 
the  condition  of  his  disciple.  It  did  not  take  him  long 
to  lay  the  sufferer  on  his  own  rude  pallet  and  kneel  by 
his  side  in  prayer.  Etienne  looked  on  Hugues  just  as 
a  parent  looks  on  a  child.  He  responded  to  all  the 
affection  that  Hugues  had  given,  he  rejoiced  in  him  as 
the  obedient  and  faithful  monk,  and  regarded  him  as  a 
brand  plucked  from  the  burning. 

The  exemplary  life  of  Hugues  ever  since  he  had 
taken  the  vows,  together  with  the  softening  influence 
that  he  had  on  all  the  others  in  the  brotherhood,  bound 
him  very  closely  to  Etienne's  heart.  How  little  did  the 
good  man  know  of  what  Hugues  had  done,  how  thor- 
oughly he  was  enlisted  in  the  good  of  the  order !  The 
affair  with  Reuben  and  Naphtali  was  unknown  to  the 
chief ;  only  he  had  seen  these  two  men  brought  in  by 
Hugues,  and  had  noted  what  wonderful  lives  of  sacrifice 
they  had  led  ever  since  they  were  in  the  monastery. 
Etienne's  quiet  nature  would  have  shrunk  back  from 
the  force  of  Hugues,  and  in  that  age  one  was  as  neces- 
sary as  the  other.  In  fact,  Hugues  had  done  much  more 
than  simply  live  in  seclusion.  His  influence  had  molded 
Etienne  and  was  beneficial  to  him,  and  in  return  Eti- 
enne had  rounded  off  his  sharp  corners.  The  effect  of 
each,  the  one  on  the  other,  was  supplementary,  and 
their  union  combined  nearly  all  the  great  and  noble 
virtues  that  grace  and  strengthen  humanity. 

As  Etienne  bent  over  the  suffering  brother,  he  could 
not  keep  back  the  tears,  but  whether  they  were  tears  of 
joy  or  sorrow  would  be  hard  to  tell.  There  was  such 
a  blending  of  different  feelings — joy,  pride,  pain,  sadness, 
pleasure,  and  grief  all  united — that  the  outcome  of  it  all 
was  tears  ;  for  Etienne  had  a  nature  that  was  feminine 
in  tenderness  and  sympathy.  He  was  startled  by  the 


HUGUES   RETURNS   TO    GRANDMONT.  1 1/ 

muttered  words  that  now  and  then  came  from  the 
sleeper,  who  began  to  toss  wildly  and  speak  incoher- 
ently. "  You  would  take  Etienne's  money  ? "  "I  did 
not  mean  to  strike  so  hard."  "Ah,  they  are  dead." 
"  God  have  mercy  on  their  souls  !  "  Then  would  come 
snatches  from  the  service  of  the  dead.  "  I  protest,  I 
call  upon  God  to  be  my  judge,  and  I  appeal  to  him 
in  judicial  combat."  "  My  Lord,  see,  this  sword  is 
cracked !  "  "  Ah,  ha  !  you  mean  to  stab  me  !  See  the 
dagger!  "  "  Do  not  hang  them,  do  not  hang  them  in 
their  sins.  Give  them  to  me  ;  I  will  convert  them  as  I 
did  Reuben  and  Naphtali."  "  O,  what  would  Etienne 
say  ?  God  bless  him,  I  will  ask  him  to  pray  for  those 
two."  "  May  God  have  mercy  on  their  souls! "  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  strike  so  hard."  "I  only  meant  to  dis- 
arm him."  "  I  did  not  think  Lord  Solignac  would 
hang  them." 

So  poor  Hugues,  who  was  in  a  delirium  of  fever, 
raved  and  spoke  incessantly.  Etienne  called  in  one  or 
two  of  the  most  trusted  brothers,  and  they  said  :  "  He  is 
talking  probably  of  the  sins  that  he  had  committed  be- 
fore he  came  into  the  order.  What  a  terrible  thing  it 
is  to  have  a  burdened  conscience  !  " 

But  Etienne  felt  that  he  was  not  speaking  of  his 
former  life.  There  was  nothing  sensual,  nothing  profane 
or  sacrilegious  ;  there  was  no  drinking  or  carousing,  such 
as  was  the  delight  of  the  man  before  he  took  the  vows 
and  came  to  Grandmont.  The  abbot  soon  found  an 
excuse  and  sent  the  others  away,  remaining  himself  by  the 
side  of  the  delirious  sufferer  and  nursing  him  with  all 
the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  moistening  his  parched 
lips,  fanning  his  burning  brow,  and  performing  many 
little  acts  of  kindness.  He  sought  some  calming  herbs 
and  administered  them  carefully,  but  it  was  a  long 
while  before  Hugues  settled  down  into  a  calm  sleep 


118  GRANDMONT. 

and  awoke  to  consciousness.  The  terrible  ordeal  that 
he  had  gone  through,  the  anxiety  that  he  suffered  on 
account  of  Etienne's  money,  the  encounter  with  thieves, 
vassals  of  the  cowardly  Robert,  and  the  exposure  to 
the  pitiless  storm — all  combined  to  give  a  severe  shock 
even  to  the  iron  constitution  of  the  Lord  of  Chalus,  who 
did  not  take  into  account  that  the  long  fasts  and  cease- 
less vigils  had  made  him  a  much  weaker  man  than  when 
he  used  to  lead  his  vassals  from  one  fray  to  another, 
with  the  proud  boast  that  he  could  sleep  as  wejl  in  the 
water  as  in  his  bed,  meaning  that  he  did  not  mind  the 
elements. 

It  was  a  long  while  before  Etienne  would  allow 
Hugues  to  repeat  the  story  of  his  trip  and  make  his  con- 
fession, which  he  was  impatient  to  do.  At  length  the 
time  came.  Hugues  began  from  the  moment  that  he 
left  on  his  mission.  He  told  the  feelings  that  came  over 
him  as  he  saw  once  more  the  old  castle  walls  of  Chalus 
where  he  had  been  so  long  master,  how  he  went  in  to 
pray  and  hastened  on  to  Montbrun,  how  he  had  received 
the  money,  of  his  early  start,  of  his  act  of  worship,  and 
the  attack  of  the  vassals.  Here  he  paused,  his  tone  be- 
came altogether  different,  and  tears  began  to  flow  down 
his  face  as  'he  narrated  with  great  paticularity  the 
events  that  had  resulted  in  the  lamented  death  of 
Robert  de  Nevers,  his  two  vassais,  and  the  would-be 
assassin.  Finally  he  told  how  the  Lord  of  Solignac  had 
pressed  upon  him  for  Etienne  the  other  one  hundred 
sous,  and  how  he  had  started  just  at  nightfall,  and,  the 
storm  coming  on,  he  had  faced  it  all  the  way.  After 
leaving  the  money  in  Etienne's  hands  he  could  remem- 
ber no  more. 

The  story  was  told  very  simply  in  its  nakedness.  No 
point  was  covered  up,  unless  it  was  the  maliciousness  of 
the  Benedictines.  The  recital  brought  tears  to  the  eyes 


HUGUES   RETUTNS   TO    GRANDMONT.  121 

of  Etienne.  Hugues's  only  anxiety  was  about  the  vas- 
sals of  Robert  who  were  slain.  "  Slain  piteously,"  said 
he.  "  I  did  not  strike  to  kill ;  I  did  it  only  to  keep  the 
money  and  to  save  them." 

"  How  didst  thou  expect  to  save  them  by  blows? "  said 
Etienne. 

"Why,  the  way  I  saved  Reuben  and  Naphtali,"  an- 
swered Hugues,  with  surprise  that  Etienne  could  ask 
such  a  question. 

"  And  did  blows  save  them  ?  "  continued  Etienne. 

"Yes;"  and  Hugues  repeated  the  whole  story  of  their 
first  meeting,  their  terrible  relapse  into  sin,  and  of  the 
way  he  had  found  them  and  brought  them  into  such 
fear  of  hell  fire,  of  their  confessions,  and  death. 

Etienne,  who  had  so  high  an  opinion  of  them,  was 
shocked  and  looked  on  Hugues  with  astonishment. 
"Thou  art  a  veritable  Boanerges,"  said  Etienne.  "It 
would  seem  that  the  Lord  is  making  use  of  thine  arm, 
rather  than  thy  tongue,  to  win  men.  Was  not  Malchus 
converted  by  having  his  ear  cut  off?  And  so,  perhaps' 
the  Lord  is  working  through  thee ;  certainly  the  results 
of  thy  works  were  far  better  than  some  of  mine,  for 
never  had  I  two  more  devout  or  sacrificing  monks  in  the 
brotherhood  than  Reuben  and  Naphtali.  I  counsel 
thee,  however,  in  the  future  to  put  less  muscle  in  thy 
logic,  for  if  they  die  as  did  thy  last  victims  their  conver- 
sion is  an  uncertain  quantity. 

"But  I  must  ask  thee,"  continued  Etienne,  "of  some 
further  things  thou  hast  not  well  explained.  Didst  thou 
observe  some  Benedictine  monks  at  the  castle  of  Solig- 
nac? " 

"  O,  yes,"  said  Hugues ;  "  I  said  nothing  about  them 
because  I  could  say  nothing  good." 

"  What  did  they  say  to  thee  ?  And  tell  me  of  their  ac- 
tions," said  Etienne. 


122  GRANDMONT. 

"  Father,  I  sought  to  hide  their  actions ;  but  if  thou 
dost  insist,  I  will  reveal  it  all." 

"  Tell  me,  my  son.  Why  shouldst  thou  hide  these 
things  from  me  ? "  and  Etienne's  brow  clouded  as  he 
spoke. 

"Because  I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  thy  good  opinion 
of  these  monks,"  said  Hugues.  "But  as  thou  hast 
desired,  so  shalt  thou  know  all ; "  and  he  recounted 
the  story  of  the  cracked  sword,  their  shout  of  "  To 
the  gallows  with  him ! "  their  attempts  to  poison  him, 
and  the  letter  found  on  the  monk  who  was  hung. 

Etienne  fell  on  his  knees  when  Hugues  finished,  and 
began  to  pray  for  them  that  they  might  be  pardoned. 
Then,  turning  to  Hugues,  he  said,  "  Enough  for  to-day. 
To-morrow  I  will  show  thee  why  I  ask  these  questions. 
Sleep  now  and  rest  well.  Do  not  make  the  tour  of  the 
cemetery  to-day,  for  it  isn't  fit  for  thee  to  expose  thy- 
self; "  and  with  a  long  and  tender  embrace  and  a  kiss  of 
peace  Etienne  parted  from  his  follower  with  strange 
feelings. 

His  appreciation  of  Hugues  was  greater  than  ever. 
There  was  in  his  sturdy  and  earnest  nature  much  that 
appealed  strongly  to  the  sentimental,  aesthetic  nature  of 
the  abbot,  and  he  went  off  to  meditate  how  he  should 
answer  Hugues  and  what  was  the  right  thing  to  recom- 
mend to  his  follower,  who  was  so  earnest  and  faithful. 


FALSE   WITNESS.  123 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FALSE    WITNESS. 

THE  next  day  Hugues,  having  been  greatly  refreshed 
by  relieving  his  mind,  and  rejoiced  by  an  approv- 
ing conscience,  felt  his  innocence  like  a  child.  His 
strong  physique  had  been  terribly  taxed  by  the  strain 
and  fever,  but  he  was  on  the  road  to  a  rapid  recovery ; 
in  fact,  he  called  himself  well  and  insisted  on  doing  all 
the  regular  service  of  the  monks.  Etienne,  after  the 
morning  meal,  called  him  to  his  cell  and  greeted  him 
lovingly. 

"  My  son,"  said  Etienne,  "  are  you  strong  enough  to 
bear  up  against  some  very  bad  news  that  I  must  tell 
you  ?" 

"My  father,"  said  Hugues,  who  had  seated  himself  on 
the  stone  floor  of  the  cell,  "  I  am  able,  with  God's  help, 
to  face  the  devil  himself,  and  am  always  ready  to  hear 
whatever  my  father  has  to  say.  His  rebukes  are  bless- 
ings and  his  penances  are  pleasures  for  me." 

"  But,  my  son,  I  have  something  here  that  has  almost 
crushed  me.  I  know  that  there  are  falsehood  and  malice 
somewhere,  and  I  am  sure  that  my  dear  Hugues  is  not 
the  guilty  one." 

"  My  father,"  answered  the  poor  man,  with  the  tears 
coursing  down  his  grizzled  face,  "my  whole  heart  has 
been  opened  to  you  ;  and  I  wish  that  you  could  look 
into  my  soul  with  the  all-seeing  eyes  of  God,  to  whom 
the  night  is  as  the  day,  then  would  you  know  that  I  have 
told  you  all  the  truth." 

For  Hugues  to  weep  was  a  terrible  thing.     His  whole 


1 24  GRANDMONT. 

body  shook ;  it  was  the  breaking  up  of  mighty  forces. 
And  while  he  had,  as  a  rule,  control  enough  over  his 
muscles  not  to  make  either  noise  or  grimace,  yet  in 
that  eye,  streaming  with  tears,  and  that  body,  in  which 
violent  emotions  struggled  with  muscle,  the  conflict 
was  one  that  would  touch  an  ordinary  beholder,  for 
there  is  something  inexpressibly  moving  in  the  tears  of 
a  strong  man ;  and  when  one  long  unused  to  tears,  like 
the  former  Lord  of  Chalus,  is  breaking  up  with  emo- 
tion, there  is  a  tremendous  cause  that  makes  itself  felt 
on  all  beholders,  whether  they  know  the  exact  reason 
or  not. 

Poor  Etienne  was  almost  overcome  at  the  sight;  but 
what  had  almost  crushed  Hugues  was  that  for  a  mo- 
ment a  shadow  of  distrust  had  crossed  the  mind  of  his 
father  in  the  faith.  Instinctively,  though  not  a  word 
had  been  spoken  more  than  the  simple  but  impressive 
answer  just  given,  Etienne  anticipated  the  thought  that 
was  passing  in  the  mind  of  his  friend,  and  said:  "  No,  no; 
a  thousand  times  no.  Not  for  a  moment  did  I  think 
that  my  dear  brother  Hugues  had  in  the  slightest 
particle  deceived  me.  I  only  wanted  a  proof  by  which 
I  might  turn  the  force  away  from  him  whom  I  love  so 
well." 

Hugues  started  up  at  this.  The  tears  all  left  his  eyes. 
"  Tell  me,  tell  me,"  he  cried,  "O  father,  what  the  powers 
of  hell  have  done  to  overthrow  me.  With  your  confi- 
dence and  belief  in  my  innocency  I  can  stand  against 
them  all.  Tell  me,  that  I  may  go  and  force  the  lie  down 
their  throats,  that  I  may  clear  my  name  and  free  the 
monastery  from  a  cloud  of  suspicion." 

Etienne  was  somewhat  startled  by  the  impetuosity  of 
his  fellow-monk,  but  for  his  response  he  took  from  his 
garment  a  letter,  and,  as  he  knew  that  Hugues  was  not 
able  to  read,  he  began  the  epistle,  which  was  as  follows  ; 


FALSE  WITNESS.  125 

"To  THE  MOST  REVERED  AND  MUCH-BELOVED 
ETIENNE  DE  MURET,  ABBOT  OF  THE  MONASTERY  OF 
GRANDMONT  :  Grace  to  you,  and  the  blessing  of  Heaven 
be  poured  upon  your  worthy  head. 

"  Knowing  your  great  holiness  and  the  love  that  you 
have  for  truth  and  honesty  and  the  reverence  that 
you  show  not  only  to  the  Trinity,  but  to  the  blessed 
Mother  of  God,  we  holding  ourselves  as  always  un- 
worthy to  loose  the  latchet  of  your  shoes,  and  praising 
the  saints  that  in  these  days  of  crime  and  lawlessness 
you  are  permitted  to  set  before  the  world  a  pattern  of 
godliness  and  virtue  which  is  known  and  spoken  of 
everywhere,  from  the  Holy  See  unto  the  farthest  chapel 
of  the  West.  Know  then,  beloved,  that  interest  in  your 
cause  and  brotherly  affection  for  you  urge  me,  much 
against  my  nature,  to  bring  the  following  facts  to  your 
knowledge,  in  order  that  you,  governed  as  you  are  by 
the  laws  of  God  and  delighting  in  righteousness,  may 
know  how  to  act. 

"  As  before  said,  it  is  out  of  the  sense  of  a  painful 
duty  (and  the  tears  wet  this  parchment  as  I  pen  these 
words)  that  I  am  forced  to  inform  you  that  the  man 
whom  you  have  so  carefully  trusted  many  times  on  your 
different  missions  is  one  unworthy  of  your  confidence, 
and  is  not  only  undeserving  of  a  place  in  your  holy  com- 
munity, but  he  is  one  who  has  frequently  violated  the 
most  solemn  vows,  and  just  now  has  added  the  most 
cruel  and  inhuman  murder  of  more  than  one  poor  vic- 
tim who  has  been  sent  by  him,  unshriven,  into  eternity. 
He  has  heaped  sin  upon  sin  by  frequently  laying 
violent  hands  on  what  was  our  property,  which  we 
have  refrained  from  speaking  about  before,  hoping  that 
the  sanctity  of  your  presence  and  the  influence  of  your 
prayers  might  change  this  child  of  the  devil ;  but  we 
find  that  he  is  continually  growing  in  sin,  and  has  within 


126  GRANDMONT. 

the  past  few  days  killed  two  innocent  men  and  been 
taken  in  the  act  of  robbing  their  dead  bodies.  Through 
his  infamous  lies  much  evil  has  been  done  to  us,  and  he 
has  just  borne  away  one  hundred  sous  from  the  Lord 
of  Solignac,  which  he  stole  most  criminally. 

"  The  information  herein  furnished  was  most  unwill- 
ingly given  by  two  of  our  most  holy  monks,  whose  lives 
are  veritable  epistles  of  love  and  sacrifice,  and  who  in 
great  agony  gave  these  facts,  bemoaning  that  God  had 
made  them  see  this  great  wickedness,  and  offering  to  take 
the  punishment  on  themselves  rather  than  that  another 
should  be  condemned  by  their  testimony.  I  doubt  not 
that  this  'child  of  all  subtlety'  will  swear  most  solemnly 
that  these  charges  are  false,  and  doubtless  will  assume 
the  role  of  a  hypocrite  before  thee.  But  thou  knowest 
the  rule,  old  as  the  laws  of  Moses,  and  renewed  by  the 
holy  word  of  Jesus  Christ  himself, '  that  in  the  mouth  of 
two  or  three  witnesses  shall  every  word  be  established.' 
We  sorrowfully  assure  you  that  these  two  holy  monks 
are  ready  now  to  give  their  testimony,  and  I  say  with  a 
heart  full  of  untold  agony  that  the  law  must  take  its 
course. 

"  Hoping  that  divine  grace  may  illumine  your  eyes  so 
that  these  awful  facts  may  appeal  to  your  just  soul,  we 
commend  you  to  God. 

"  (Signed,)  ABBOT  OF  SOLIGNAC." 

Etienne,  choking  with  sobs,  ceased,  while  Hugues,  as 
soon  as  the  letter  was  ended,  said,  "May  God  have 
mercy  on  their  souls  and  convert  them  !  "  and  asked  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  go  immediately  to  the  Lord  of 
Solignac  and  call  up  the  abbot  and  all  to  bear  testimony 
that  he  might  vindicate  his  character. 

"  No,"  said  Etienne;  "  there  is  no  call  for  you  to  jump 
into  the  lion's  jaws.  If  they  can  concoct  such  lies  about 


FALSE   WITNESS.  127 

you,  (and  may  God  forgive  them !)  they  will  not  hesitate 
to  murder  you." 

"  Fear  not,"  replied  Hugues.  "  God  will  defend  his 
own,  and  I  will  put  my  case  in  his  hands  as  long  as  you 
have  confidence  in  me." 

"No,  thou  shalt  not  go;  but  I  will  send  a  mes- 
senger who  will  bear  a  letter  to  the  Lord  of  Solignac, 
as  well  as  to  the  abbot  of  the  monastery,  and  I  will 
summon  them  all  to  give  their  testimony  at  a  suitable 
place,  where  we  will  pray  heaven  that  justice  may  be 
done." 

"As  you  will,  father,"  said  Hugues;  "but  methinks 
that  it  would  be  better  to  go  there  and  have  the  matter 
finished  at  once.  I  have  often,  when  traveling  alone 
through  the  forest,  been  attacked  by  wolves,  having 
nothing  but  my  sword  or  staff  to  defend  me.  Many  a 
time  have  they  barked  and  snapped  at  me,  but  I  found 
the  only  way  to  save  my  blood  was  to  turn  suddenly 
upon  them  and  with  my  club  strike  so  quickly  that  sev- 
eral were  laid  low  before  they  had  a  chance  to  unite. 
Then  the  whole  pack  would  seek  their  holes,  and  return 
after  I  had  gone  a  long  distance  and  eat  up  the  fallen 
and  wounded  ones  on  the  field.  This,  I  think,  would  be 
the  best  way  to  fight  these  wolves  who  are  thirsting  for 
my  blood  because  I  have  unearthed  some  of  their  vil- 
lainies, and  they  think  that  I  have  poisoned  you  with 
reports  that  are  true  about  them,  but  which  you  know 
I  did  not  tell  until  you,  as  my  father,  asked  me 
about  them;  then  I  felt  that  I  was  in  duty  bound  to 
tell  all,  which  I  have  truly  done.  I  am  sure,"  continued 
Hugues,  "  that  they  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short 
of  this  poor  life,  which  is  so  ready  to  be  cut  off  if  my 
Master  wills  it." 

Now  Hugues  had  recovered  his  natural  voice.  Even 
a  smile  began  to  play  around  his  bearded  face.  He  was 


128  GRANDMONT. 

in  no  fear,  and  was  willing  to  go  right  then  and  there 
and  have  the  matter  settled. 

After  his  departure  from  Solignac  the  Benedictines 
had  held  a  council.  It  had  been  their  plan  to  accompany 
Hugues  a  part  of  the  way,  ostensibly  for  protection,  and 
when  he  was  in  a  secluded  spot  to  have  him  murdered 
by  some  convenient  hirelings ;  for  at  this  time  a  mur- 
der could  be  committed  and  the  murderer  escape  by 
paying  a  fine.  The  sum  was  fixed  on  the  head  accord- 
ing to  the  rank,  and  it  was  simply  a  question  of  money 
as  to  whether  one  could  commit  a  crime  and  escape  the 
penalty.  The  one  hundred  sous  which  Hugues  carried 
would  have  left  the  murderer,  after  conviction,  with  a 
balance  of  seventy  to  commit  a  couple  of  others,  and 
live  like  a  prince  for  a  month  on  the  other  ten.  In  other 
words,  the  law  counted  a  monk's  life  worth  thirty  sous. 
But  the  determination  of  Hugues  to  go  alone  and  the 
order  of  the  Lord  of  Solignac  that  no  one  should  leave 
the  castle  without  his  express  consent  prevented  the 
Benedictines  from  carrying  out  that  plan. 

They  agreed  that,  now  that  Hugues  knew  the  villainies 
they  had  perpetrated  in  trying  to  poison  him  by  the 
wine  and  holy  water,  and  also  the  trick  with  the  injured 
sword  and  the  attempt  of  Brother  Judas  to  assassinate 
him,  these  facts  would  give  them  a  bad  reputation.  They 
determined  to  study  out  some  means  of  making  away 
with  Hugues,  whose  continued  existence  was  a  threat  to 
their  own  ;  so  they  went  to  their  abbot,  who  was  not  a 
bad  man,  but  too  indolent  to  give  much  heed  to  the 
affairs  of  his  monastery.  He  would  dream  away  days 
and  weeks  with  mental  pictures.  He  was  very  sickly  by 
constitution,  and  his  council  did  all  the  regular  work. 
He  signed  all  that  was  given  him,  only  asking  if  it  were 
all  right,  and  never  troubled,  himself  to  know  what 
going  on. 


FALSE   WITNESS.  1 29 

The  letter  to  Etienne  had  been  written  by  an  Italian 
monk  who  was  aspiring  to  the  priory,  and  who  did  not 
scruple  to  use  any  means  to  thwart  Etienne,  of  whose 
monastery  he  was  jealous  and  whose  good  name  was 
counted  an  injury  to  their  own. 

The  bull  of  Pope  Hildebrand,  or  Gregory  VII,  gave 
to  Etienne  no  master  other  than  the  occupant  of  St. 
Peter's  chair,  so  that  there  was  no  use  of  intriguing  with 
the  bishop  or  any  ecclesiastical  authority.  The  great 
source  of  trouble  was  the  fact  that  the  Lords  of  Montbrun 
and  Solignac  had  each  given  one  hundred  sous  to  Grand- 
mont.  This,  the  Benedictines  said,  was  just  so  much 
taken  away  from  them,  for  the  two  castles  were  in  their 
district,  and,  as  the  money  was  in  their  territory,  it  was 
theirs,  and  it  was  no  better  than  stealing  for  Etienne  to 
send  Hugues  for  it ;  ergo,  Hugues  had  stolen  the  money. 
A  thief  could  not  be  worthy  of  belief  ;  therefore  the  tes- 
timony that  Hugues  gave  about  the  death  of  the  two 
vassals  of  Robert  was  to  be  discredited.  What  Robert 
had  said  was  the  undoubted  truth,  and  that  poor  wretch, 
when  he  confessed,  was  probably  under  the  spell  that 
Hugues  had  cast  over  him. 

So  the  whole  thing  was  argued  to  the  complete  and 
logical  satisfaction  of  the  Benedictines,  who  made  the 
testimony  and  logic  conform  to  their  wishes. 

Having  persuaded  themselves  of  this  and  written  the 
letter  just  given,  they  thought  that  they  had  woven  a 
web  around  Hugues  that  would  destroy  him,  and  in  the 
event  of  his  fall  they  hoped  also,  later  on,  to  involve 
Etienne,  and  so  break  up  the  little  band  who  were  fast- 
ing and  praying  up  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  bleak 
mountains  of  the  Limousin. 

The  plans  were  well  and  deeply  laid;  to  carry  them 
out  seemed  very  simple.  A  Benedictine  monk  had 
taken  the  letter  to  Grandmont  only  a  few  days  after  the. 


130  GRANDMONT. 

adventures  of  Hugues  in  the  castle  of  Solignac.  Etienne 
had  kept  that  letter  during  Hugues's  illness.  Believ- 
ing him  innocent,  he  watched  and  tended,  rejoicing  at 
his  recovery,  so  that  his  noble  follower  might  set  himself 
right  before  all  and  show  how  mistaken  the  Benedictines 
were  in  their  estimate  of  him. 

Just  as  soon  as  Hugues  was  able,  therefore,  Etienne 
read  the  letter.  Now  the  chief  pondered  well,  and 
spent  several  nights  in  prayer  and  fasting  to  know  how 
he  should  frame  an  answer  to  the  reverend  Abbot  of 
Solignac.  Hugues  would  have  saved  him  the  trouble 
by  facing  the  lion  in  his  den,  but  the  good  father  loved 
his  brave  son  too  well  to  allow  such  a  risk. 

"  I  could  see  thee  burned  at  the  stake,  like  Aurelian, 
or  crucified,  like  St.  Peter,  if  thou  wert  to  go  to  a  martyr's 
doom  and  receive  a  martyr's  reward.  But  how  could  I 
see  thee  murdered  by  thy  brethren,  who  partake  of  the 
same  holy  communion  as  we,  and  who  have  the  same 
faith  ?  Besides,  they  would  say  it  was  the  judgment  of 
God  on  thee  for  the  crimes  that  thou  hast  not  com- 
mitted." 

So  argued  Etienne,  and  Hugues,  who  thought  that  his 
master  was  the  very  personification  of  wisdom  as  well 
as  of  holiness,  assented  to  what  he  considered  superior 
judgment.  At  Hugues's  request  he  sent  a  letter  to  the 
Lord  of  Solignac,  as  well  as  to  the  abbot. 

"To  His  EXCELLENT  HIGHNESS  THE  LORD  OF  SOLIG- 
NAC, GREETING  :  Your  humble  servant  in  Jesus  Christ, 
wishing  for  you  and  praying  that  all  divine  gifts  may  be 
yours,  being  pressed  down  by  grief,  occasioned  by  cer- 
tain reports  that  have  been  brought  to  our  knowledge  as 
follows  :  It  is  reported  that  my  fellow  monk  and  much- 
loved  follower,  Hugues  (late  Lord  of  Chalus),  while  pass- 
ing through  your  domain,  has  with  murderous  hands 


FALSE   WITNESS.  13! 

slain  two  vassals  of  one  Robert  de  Nevers;  that  he 
then  most  indecently  and  criminally  robbed  their  dead 
bodies,  and  was  so  found  in  the  act  ;  that  after  an  ap- 
peal to  God  in  judicial  combat,  in  which  he  was  the  vic- 
tor, he,  taking  advantage  of  the  hospitality  of  your 
castle  and  the  confidence  that  you  placed  in  him,  added 
yet  to  his  crime  by  stealing  from  you  one  hundred  sous. 
Will  your  lordship  have  the  great  kindness  to  assure 
me  of  the  truth  or  falsity  of  these  serious  accusations, 
and  greatly  oblige  yours  in  truth  and  equity  ?  I  hold 
the  one  hundred  sous  at  your  disposal,  and  if  he  has 
taken  them  without  your  consent  I  will  send  him  back 
with  them  to  you,  to  suffer  whatever  you  may  think 
best  to  inflict  upon  him. 

"  In  the  deepest  humility  and  shame,  I  am  yours  in 
sorrow, 

"  (Signed,)  ETIENNE." 

To  write  to  the  abbot  was  altogether  a  more  difficult 
thing.  From  what  Hugues  had  said  of  the  Lord  of  So- 
lignac,  it  was  thought  that  the  lord  would  instantly 
avow  the  innocence  of  Hugues  and  bring  his  accusers 
to  justice  ;  but  the  letter  to  the  abbot  took  some  deep 
thinking  and  much  time  to  compose. 

"To  THE  REVEREND  AND  GREATLY  HONORED  ABBOT 
OF  SOLIGNAC,  GREETING:  Your  fellow  but  humble  brother 
in  the  faith  has  received  with  untold  sorrow  and 
heartaches  your  letter,  and  notes  with  many  tears  its 
contents.  I  would  say  that  Hugues  has  conducted 
himself  always,  since  he  has  been  under  the  monastic 
vows,  with  great  care,  living  constantly  in  prayer  and 
fasting.  The  things  reported  seem  to  me  to  be  incred- 
ible, from  what  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes.  His  soul 
is  full  of  tenderness  and  love,  and  he  would  not  harm  a 


132  GRANDMONT. 

single  creature  for  his  life.  Though  I  do  not  wish  to 
convey  the  slightest  idea  that  your  good  brothers 
have  been  false,  yet  is  there  not  a  possibility  of  their 
being  mistaken?  Have  they  not  taken  Hugues  for 
another,  who  might  be  dressed  in  the  monkish  garb? 
If  they  persist  in  their  testimony,  then  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  call  a  council  before  the  Bishop  of  Limoges, 
or  some  high,  holy,  and  unprejudiced  party,  and 
there  let  the  usual  tests  be  applied  to  prove  the  truth. 
As  for  Hugues,  he  denies  absolutely  the  things  of  which 
he  is  accused  in  the  most  solemn  way  and  on  the  most 
sacred  relics.  I  feel  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to  convict 
him  without  a  trial,  and  therefore  ask  you  to  unite  with 
me  in  endeavoring  to  search  out  the  truth,  so  that  the 
guilty  may  be  punished  or  the  innocent  vindicated  ; 
lest  peradventure  we  bring  the  wrath  of  the  just  God 
down  upon  us  by  condemning  the  innocent  or  freeing 
the  guilty.  With  many  prayers  for  yourself  and  the 
good  of  your  most  excellent  order,  I  am  now  and  ever, 

"  Your  most  sorrowful  brother, 
"  (  Signed , )  ETIENNE." 

These  two  letters  were  sealed  with  the  sign  of  the 
cross  and  sent  by  a  special  messenger  to  Solignac.  The 
messenger  was  duly  charged  to  hasten,  and  was  soon  on 
his  way  to  the  place  where  Hugues  had  suffered  so 
greatly.  The  man  sent  on  this  service  belonged  to  what 
were  known  as  the  lay  monks,  being  engaged  in  the 
secular  work  and  not  compelled  to  attend  as  many 
services  as  the  regular  monks.  He  started  off,  and 
when  near  Solignac  was  met,  as  by  accident,  by  a  num- 
ber of  Benedictines,  who  gave  him  most  cordial  greet- 
ings and  invited  him  to  unite  with  them  in  a  service, 
which  he  did.  Then  he  was  urged  to  refresh  himself  with 
some  wine,  and  this  he  at  first  refused  to  do,  but  after 


FALSE   WITNESS.  133 

a  little  urging,  and  as  wine  was  not  entirely  prohibited 
by  Etienne,  he  drank.  The  wine  had  a  strong  sleep- 
ing potion  in  it,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  mes- 
senger was  sleeping  soundly.  The  Benedictines  took 
the  letters  from  him,  and,  destroying  the  one  to  the 
Lord  of  Solignac  and  writing  another  to  suit  their  pur- 
pose, they  hastily  read  and  answered  the  note  addressed 
to  their  abbot.  When  these  were  ready,  they  aroused 
the  sleeping  messenger,  who  began  to  fumble  around 
for  the  letters.  The  Benedictines  said,  "What  are  you 
searching  for,  brother  ?  "  and  he  answered,  "  My  master, 
Etienne,  delivered  to  me  two  letters,  one  for  the  Lord 
of  Solignac  and  the  other  for  the  abbot,  and  now,  alas, 
I  cannot  find  them."  They  began  to  aid  him  in  the 
search.  After  awhile  another  monk  joined  them  and 
asked  the  cause  of  their  search,  and  was  told  of  the  lost 
letters. 

"Ah!"  said  he.  "As  I  was  passing  on  my  way  to  the 
chapel,  I  found  two  letters,  one  for  the  Lord  of  Solig- 
nac and  the  other  for  his  highness  the  abbot.  I  carried 
them  both  to  the  persons  addressed  and  saw  them  break 
the  seals  of  their  respective  letters.  Furthermore,  I  am 
now  in  search  of  the  messenger,  to  deliver  to  him  the 
answers,  for  each  one  has  written  a  reply." 

"  Praise  the  Virgin  !  "  said  the  poor  messenger.  "  I 
am  the  one,  and  I  feared  that  my  slothful  sleep  had 
made  me  forget  my  mission  and  lose  the  writings  con- 
fided to  my  care." 

"  Fear  not,"  said  the  monks ;  "  the  Virgin  cares  for 
those  who  are  as  faithful  to  her  as  you,  and  now  rest 
here  to-night  and  in  the  morning  return." 

The  poor  man  accepted  their  hospitality.  The  show 
and  pretensions  of  the  Benedictines  pleased  Jiim.  He 
thought  that  he  was  in  a  veritable  company  of  angels. 
They  inquired  carefully  after  Hugues,  and  regretted  his 


1 34  GRANDMONT. 

sickness,  and  asked  if  he  were  fully  recovered  and  how 
Etienne  was,  and  by  a  series  of  ingenious  questions  they 
managed  to  worm  out  of  the  dupe  all  that  they  wished 
to  know.  They  found  that  Hugues  was  much  better, 
that  his  recovery  was  not  complete,  that  he  was  still 
weak,  but  that  he  was  regaining  rapidly  the  health  that 
he  had  lost.  They  also  discovered  how  closely  Etienne 
and  the  enemy  were  bound  together;  but  the  man 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  therefore 
could  not  tell  anything. 

No  one  but  Hugues  and  Etienne  knew  the  story,  and 
it  was  not  the  purpose  of  either  to  tell  anything.  Well 
was  it  that  the  messenger  knew  nothing  that  would  re- 
flect on  either,  for  he  would  have  told  it  all  uncon- 
sciously to  his  shrewd  questioners,  who  under  the  guise 
of  friendly  interest  and  with  words  of  great  admiration 
for  the  holiness  and  piety  of  Hugues  and  his  master  had 
gained  the  confidence  and  heart  of  the  poor  fellow,  who 
thought  that  all  the  time  he  was  adding  glory  to  his 
friends. 

After  forcing  the  man  to  eat  a  sumptuous  meal,  they 
started  him  on  his  return  early  the  next  morning.  He 
did  not  reach  Ambazac  before  sunset,  and  darkness  had 
already  settled  on  the  mountains  of  Grandmont  when, 
tired  with  his  long  journey,  he  stood  before  the  cell  of 
Etienne  and  delivered  the  letters  to  his  master  and  re- 
ceived the  blessing  he  sought. 

Hugues  was  called  immediately,  and  before  the  seals 
were  broken  examined  the  letters.  "Ah!  "  said  he.  "I 
cannot  read,  but  the  same  hand  has  folded  both  of  these, 
the  crest  of  the  lord  is  wanting,  and  the  cross  of  the 
abbot  is  on  them  both."  This  was  an  oversight  of  the 
monks,  who  in  their  haste  had  overlooked  the  fact  that 
if  they  employed  the  lord's  name  they  must  use  his 
crest. 


FALSE  WITNESS.  135 

"Let  us  look  at  the  inside  now,"  said  Etienne,  who 
would  never  have  been  suspicious  enough  to  have  ex- 
amined the  seals  or  thought  of  forgery.  That  to  him 
would  have  been  an  unheard-of  crime ;  but  though 
Hugues  could  not  read,  his  eyes  had  been  trained  to  note 
little  things,  and,  like  the  Indian,  whose  instinct  seems  to 
teach  him  all  about  game  and  who  discerns  tracks  and 
marks  where  Ordinary  persons  would  see  nothing, 
Hugues's  discernment  and  careful  attention  revealed  the 
fact  that  the  crest  was  wanting.  Now  that  Etienne's 
attention  was  called  to  it,  he  saw  that  both  letters  were 
written  by  the  same  hand ;  yet  his  righteous  soul  revolted 
at  the  thought  that  there  could  be  such  degradation  and 
sin,  that,  to  carry  out  an  evil  purpose,  men  who  made  such 
profession  of  holiness  as  the  Benedictines  could  be  ca- 
pable of  forgery.  He  therefore  dismissed  the  thought 
from  his  mind  and  said,  "  It  is  impossible." 

"  Let   us  not  condemn  them   before  we  have  heard 

-what  they  have  to  say,"  said  Etienne,  who  in  his  great 

kindness  was  always  seeking  for  a  cloak  of  charity  to 

cover  up  the  sins  of  his  enemies,  thinking  that  by  so 

doing  he  was  pleasing  heaven. 

If  there  was  one  thing  he  did  not  wish  to  be,  it  was 
to  be  unjust,  and  the  fear  of  that  often  led  him  to  the 
very  opposite  extreme  of  inventing  an  excuse  for  those 
who  had  none. 

After  a  short  exhortation  to  Hugues  to  err  always  on 
the  side  of  charity,  he  tore  off  the  seals  and  unfolded 
the  letter  of  the  abbot,  and  began  to  read  the  following: 

.  "  To  ETIENNE,  DEARLY  BELOVED,  GREETING  :  Most 
reverend  and  holy  brother.  Since  we  dispatched  our 
first  letter  to  you,  we  have  given  our  souls  no  rest. 
Night  and  day  have  been  spent  in  prayers  and  fastings, 
seeking  to  find  some  way  to  excuse  and  overlook  the 


136  GRANDMONT. 

crimes  committed  by  that  man  who  is  called  Hugues, 
and  who  is  received  everywhere  because  he  is  one  of 
your  disciples.  The  great  love  and  reverence  that  we 
have  for  you,  besides  the  well-merited  reputation  that 
you  have  for  purity  of  life  and  superior  holiness,  made 
us  hesitate  long  before  declaring  the  unpleasant  facts 
that  we  would  have  torn  our  hearts  out  sooner  than  have 
revealed,  but  that  the  holy  name  that  you  have  won 
and  the  Church  we  love  be  not  scandalized,  we  were 
forced  to  point  out  this  Judas  in  your  fold.  Your  an- 
swer has  been  received,  and  we  see  how  terrible  the 
revelation  is  to  your  sweet  nature;  but  we  have  ex- 
amined the  monks  who  gave  the  testimony,  and  they 
are  now  half  dead  with  long  fastings  and  with  the  great 
agony  they  have  experienced  in  being  compelled  to 
bear  such  unpleasant  testimony  against  one  for  whom 
we  have  had  so  high  a  regard,  and  most  especially  for 
you,  whom  we  all  think  the  purest  and  best  of  mortals 
on  the  earth.  We  are  not  astonished  that  so  old  a 
criminal  should  blind  your  pure  eyes  with  his  lies.  In- 
deed, every  day  brings  us  some  fresh  proof  of  his  vil- 
lainies, and  now  a  score  of  monks  are  willing  to  testify 
against  him.  The  proof  that  you  suggest  would  be 
very  wise  and  excellent  were  it  just  a  question  be- 
tween Hugues  and  one  of  our  monks ;  but  you  will  cer- 
tainly admit  that,  where  a  score  of  good  and  true  brother 
Christians,  who  are  under  the  same  solemn  oaths  as  our- 
selves, after  long  fasting  and  prayer  with  tears  declare 
these  things,  their  hearts  being  racked  by  the  deeds 
committed  by  this  monster,  such  a  trial  would  be  use- 
less, increasing  your  agony,  as  well  as  our  own,  although 
we  do  not  count  ourselves  as  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  you.  What  seems  to  us  the  wisest  thing  is  to 
send  Hugues  securely  bound  to  the  Lord  of  Solignac, 
whom  he  has  so  vilely  treated,  and  let  him  administer 


FALSE  WITNESS.  137 

such  justice  as  the  secular  law  may  demand.  We 
freely  pardon  Hugues  for  all  the  great  injuries  he  has 
done  against  us  and  pray  that  God  will  cleanse  his 
guilty  soul,  for  surely  there  is  not  a  more  guilty  one 
now  in  purgatory  than  abides  under  your  protection  in 
the  person  of  Hugues  de  Lacerta.  With  our  most  fra- 
ternal greeting,  we  most  humbly  bow  at  the  feet  of  your 
superior  holiness. 

"  (Signed,)  ABBOT  OF  SOLIGNAC." 

"May  God  forgive  them  !  May  God  forgive  them!" 
repeated  Hugues  and  Etienne  in  the  same  breath. 

"  O,  I  am  faint !  "  said  Etienne.  "  How  can  such  wick- 
edness be  allowed  to  exist  ?  Has  the  devil  taken  pos- 
session of  men,  as  he  did  when  the  Blessed  Word  was 
here  in  the  flesh  ? " 

Hugues  sat  silent,  but  kept  repeating,  "  May  God  for- 
give them!  May  God  forgive  them  !  "  Then,  arousing 
as  from  a  dream,  he  said :  "  Father,  you  have  not  read  the 
other  letter  ;  but  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  from  the  Lord 
of  Solignac,  for  it  has  not  his  crest.  The  lord  spares  not 
the  ink  when  he  writes.  I  have  seen  his  writing  to 
titles,  and  know  it  well." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Etienne.  "You  know  not  but  he  may 
have  requested  some  one  to  write  for  him,  and  there 
may  be  a  full  acquittal  from  all  accusations.  Let  us 
cross  ourselves  and  see."  So  saying,  he  broke  the  seal 
and  began  to  read : 

"  To  THE  HOLY  AND  BELOVED  ETIENNE  :  I  confess 
myself  unworthy  of  the  honor  of  writing  an  epistle  to 
you  ;  but,  as  you  have  made  a  request,  I  shall  not  delay 
complying  with  it,  sad  as  it  may  be  not  only  for  me,  but 
for  yourself.  Know  then  that  there  was  found  on  my 
premises  one  of  your  followers  (most  unworthy  disciple 


138  GRANDMONT. 

of  so  holy  a  master),  a  man  in  a  monk's  habit.  He  was 
discovered  in  the  very  act  of  searching  the  bodies  of  two 
poor  victims  whom  he  had  killed.  He  was  brought  to  me 
by  one  Robert  de  Nevers,  a  valiant  and  faithful  knight 
of  whom  you  must  have  heard,  for  his  name  is  well 
known  throughout  this  part  of  the  land  for  bravery  and 
holy  living.  This  good  knight  came  to  me  and  declared 
what  he  had  caught  the  said  Hugues  doing.  I  would 
have  made  the  villain  at  once  mount  the  gallows,  but  he 
denied  so  vehemently,  and  as  a  knight  appealed  to  judi- 
cial combat,  which  I  was  loth  to  allow,  but  owing  to 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  knighted,  I  was  forced  by  the 
laws  of  our  common  knighthood  to  yield  ;  and  when  the 
battle  took  place  he,  being  a  superior  swordsman,  took 
advantage  of  the  weakness  of  his  adversary  and  slew 
him.  I  was  thereupon  forced  against  my  will  to  set  him 
free,  but  imagine  my  surprise,  after  giving  him  for  your 
sake  the  hospitality  of  the  castle,  to  find  that  he  had 
run  away  from  the  house  in  the  night  and  taken  from  my 
treasure  one  hundred  sous  that  I  had  reserved  for  the 
pious  monks  of  Solignac.  If,  therefore,  the  rascal  has 
given  the  same  to  your  keeping,  I  will  send  two  of  these 
monks,  who  will  receive  the  money  from  your  holy 
hand.  Concerning  this  Hugues,  I  commend  you  to  send 
him  to  me  securely  bound,  and  I  will  judge  him  by  the 
laws  of  the  land.  I  know  that  it  would  be  a  severe  trial 
for  your  righteous  soul  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  him,  but 
send  him  bound  to  me  as  I  have  said,  and  you  need 
fear  no  more.  Only  I  assure  your  holiness  that  the  land 
will  not  much  longer  be  cursed  with  such  a  vile  rep- 
robate. Assuring  you  of  my  high  esteem,  and  hold- 
ing myself  always  honored  by  commands  from  you,  I 
am,  as  ever, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 

"LORD  OF  SOLIGNAC." 


FALSE  WITNESS.  139 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  Hugues.  "  That  is  just  what  I  ex- 
pected when  I  saw  the  cross  on  the  seal.  The  Lord  of 
Solignac  knows  too  well  Hugues  de  Lacerta  to  write 
such  a  thing,  and  he  never  could  have  written  what  he 
has  about  Robert  de  Nevers  ;  and  that  sending  for  the 
money  is  all  a  fraud  to  obtain  what  was  truly  given  to 
you,  my  father." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it.  I  know  that  you  speak  the  truth, 
my  son,"  said  Etienne  ;  "  but  how  shall  we  be  able  to 
meet  these  false  accusers  ?  Our  blessed  Lord  himself 
was  condemned  by  false  witnesses  ;  Paul,  his  holy  apos- 
tle, was  surrounded  by  hosts  who  testified  untruths 
against  him  at  Jerusalem  and  Rome ;  and  you,  my  poor 
son,  are  another  victim.  But  fear  not,  he  who  stood  by 
Paul  on  that  night  when  his  ship  was  wrecked  will 
stand  by  you,  and  you  shall  come  out  of  this  with  glory 
and  honor  for  our  dear  Lord."  And  Etienne  threw  his 
arms  around  Hugues  and  kissed  him  tenderly. 

Now  that  Etienne  was  fully  awake  to  the  infamy  of 
the  Benedictines,  his  great  nature  was  all  alert.  He  saw 
clearly  the  whole  deceitful  plot  and  was  preparing  his 
best  to  meet  it.  They  sat  and  talked  until  the  midnight 
bell  rang  out  the  call  to  prayers  ;  then  they  both  arose 
and  went  into  the  common  meeting  place,  Etienne  giv- 
ing the  unneeded  advice  to  Hugues  to  speak  to  no  one 
about  the  matter. 

After  prayers  all  retired,  Etienne  to  his  pallet  and 
Hugues  to  his,  but  neither  to  close  his  eyes.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  say  which  was  the  more  worried,  the  mas- 
ter or  the  disciple.  The  latter  had  no  fear,  and  would 
willingly  have  started  off  at  that  very  hour  to  face  the 
enemy  on  his  own  field,  but  Etienne  would  not  hear  of 
it.  Great  sorrow  filled  his  heart  because  so  much  grief 
had  been  brought  to  his  dear  master,  and  he  recalled 
again  and  again  every  incident  of  his  behavior,  and 


140  GRANDMONT. 

could  find  nothing  that  he  had  failed  to  repeat  in  his  con- 
fession. O,  that  sleepless  night  !  How  many  thousand 
times  he  prayed  and  called  on  the  Virgin,  saints,  and 
Trinity  to  help  him  ! 

How  slow  the  sun  is  in  rising  when  eyes  are  straining 
for  him,  and  how  weary  and  wretched  the  head  feels 
after  such  nights  as  these  !  So  felt  both  master  and 
monk,  but  still  they  made  their  regular  appearance 
among  their  fellows,  and  it  was  not  noticed.  The  whole 
brotherhood  had  confidence  in  Etienne  and  Hugues. 

Now,  it  had  occurred  to  Etienne  to  call  that  messen- 
ger and  find  out  all  the  details,  but  he  had  been  sent  off 
on  another  mission,  and  so  Etienne  had  to  wait.  Had  he 
succeeded,  had  he  been  able  to  see  that  servant  and 
find  out  that  he  had  really  seen  neither  the  lord  nor 
the  abbot  he  might  have  acted  differently.  What  was 
to  be  done  now  ?  Everything  was  in  confusion  over 
the  prospective  wedding  of  the  young  Lord  of  Cocu 
with  the  daughter  of  the  Vicomte  de  Limoges.  All 
of  the  dignitaries  would  be  at  both  places  on  the  oc- 
casion, and  Etienne  sought  to  cheer  Hugues  by  saying, 
"  Surely  the  Lord  of  Solignac  will  come  here.  Let  us 
pray  over  it  and  trust  that  God  will  vindicate  his  own.'' 


A   MEDIEVAL   MARRIAGE.  14! 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A    MEDIAEVAL    MARRIAGE. 

FROM  the  time  that  Adam  awoke  from  that  deep 
sleep  and  found  the  sweetest  reality  at  his  side 
that  a  man  can  find,  namely,  a  real  helpmeet,  whose 
blood  and  bone  are  a  part  of  his  own  being,  down 
through  all  time  to  the  present  day,  never  has  there  been 
a  time  when  a  wedding,  the  union  of  a  man  with  a 
woman  in  the  God-ordained  institution  of  matrimony, 
has  not  called  forth  all  the  better  feelings  in  humanity 
to  make  the  time  memorable  by  happiness  and  pleas- 
ure. 

In  the  Limousin  district  no  exception  was  found  to 
this  rule  of  humanity,  and  when  the  wedding  of  the 
young  Lord  of  Cocu  with  the  daughter  of  the  Vicomte 
de  Limoges  was  announced,  the  gossips  and  long  tongues 
of  the  day  had  enough  to  talk  about  until  the  event  took 
place. 

When  the  eventful  day  arrived,  it  was  a  regular  holiday 
for  the  whole  region.  Fashion,  which  played  as  active 
a  part  eight  hundred  years  ago  as  it  does  to-day,  made 
many  brush  up  and  fix  over  old  robes  to  look  like  new, 
and  those  who  could  bought  new  ones.  The  newest  de- 
signs in  hairdressing  were  sought  after,  and  all  the  latest 
modes  of  external  decoration. 

The  wedding  was  to  take  place,  of  course,  at  Limoges. 
All  of  the  lords  and  ladies  for  a  long  distance  were  in- 
vited, and  processions  on  horseback  might  be  seen  com- 
ing from  Lauriere,  Dorat,  Uzerche,  Chalus,  and  Solig- 
nac.  Bright  colors  and  shining  armor  served  to  make  the 


142  GRANDMONT. 

scene  attractive,  and  the  peasants  walked  along  the 
highway  and  scampered  to  one  side  as  the  lords  and 
ladies  rode  by.  It  was  thought  that  never  had  there 
been  a  finer  display  in  the  Limousin.  The  vicomte 
intended  to  make  as  much  of  the  occasion  as  possible, 
as  he  desired  to  show  to  the  world  his  hospitality ;  and, 
as  he  had  several  other  daughters  whom  he  wished  to 
marry  off,  nothing  was  spared  in  the  outlay  to  make  the 
wedding  feast  most  memorable. 

The  religious  ceremonies,  of  course,  took  place  at  the 
cathedral,  the  bishop  himself  officiating,  and  the 
acolytes  and  singers  each  sought  to  outvie  the  other  in 
the  discharge  of  their  respective  duties.  Banners, 
crests,  plumes,  and  all  the  insignia  of  nobility  were  there 
displayed  to  great  advantage.  The  bride  and  her 
maidens  had  spent  many  an  hour  on  the  trousseau. 
Needlework  and  drawnwork  and  darning  in  of  beautiful 
designs  were  used  in  decorating  the  bridal  gown,  which 
was  confined  by  a  jeweled  stomacher.  Rich  tapestries 
were  laid  for  the  bride  to  walk  upon  from  the  altar  to 
the  sedan  chair  which  was  to  carry  her  to  the  castle. 
The  happy  bridegroom  was  dressed  in  a  splendid  suit, 
which  glittered  and  shone  with  jewels  and  emblazon- 
ments. 

The  dinner  was  served  in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle. 
Many  a  time  before  had  the  old  walls  resounded  with  the 
sounds  of  merriment.  Often  had  the  gentry  of  the  center 
of  France  gathered  there  on  different  occasions,  but 
never  had  there  been  a  gayer  assemblage  than  this  now 
gathered  at  the  vicomte's  magnificent  board.  Difficult 
indeed  is  the  task  of  describing  that  wedding  dinner. 
At  this  period  the  order  of  serving  food  was  not  reduced 
to  the  science  of  to-day.  The  manners  partook  more  of 
the  field  and  the  solitude  of  the  castle,  and  did  not  help 
to  give  to  the  inmates  that  sense  of  propriety  that  is  sure 


A   MEDIAEVAL  MARRIAGE.  143 

to  come  from  association  and  contact  with  the  higher 
classes  of  mankind.  Had  one  of  our  readers  been 
among  the  guests  at  the  vicomte's  table,  he  would 
have  looked  in  vain  for  many  of  the  dishes  so  common 
to-day  (for  instance,  potatoes  were  as  yet  unknown  in 
Europe)  ;  also  he  would  find  no  coffee,  tea,  or  chocolate 
nor  cigars  after  the  meal.  Brandy,  champagne,  liqueurs, 
etc.,  were  not  used,  but  white  and  red  wines  flowed  in 
great  abundance  during  the  feast. 

But  the  serving  of  the  meal  itself  was  probably  the 
most  interesting  feature  of  all.  Fish  were  plentiful  and 
large,  mostly  broiled  and  served  whole  on  metal  plat- 
ters. Oxen,  sheep,  and  pigs  were  roasted  whole,  and  the 
savory  odors  filled  the  whole  building.  Whenever  a 
fancy  dish  was  served,  as,  for  instance,  a  wild  boar,  it 
was  brought  to  the  table  whole  on  a  trencher,  and  car- 
ried by  several  cooks  dressed  in  costume.  Even  the 
bristles  were  replaced  in  the  cooked  flesh,  to  give  it  the 
appearance  of  life.  Preceding  the  cooks  came  buffoons, 
or  court  fools,  or  clowns,  who  would  make  diverting 
speeches  for  the  company.  Then  there  were  surprise 
dishes,  accompanied  by  little  peasant  maidens,  who  sang 
some  ditty  or  danced  for  the  pleasure  of  the  guests. 
When  the  great  pies  were  opened,  perhaps  a  number 
of  imprisoned  birds  would  fly  out,  a  small  pond  in 
which  live  fish  were  swimming  would  be  exposed,  a 
live  hare  might  bound  off,  or  wriggling  eels  might  es- 
cape. 

There  was  no  want  of  eatables,  however,  and  the  fun 
grew  fast  and  furious  as  the  wines  were  drunk.  A  fer- 
mented drink,  in  which  honey  was  one  of  the  ingredients, 
proved  intoxicating  enough  to  serve  for  a  modern 
diplomatic  dinner. 

The  feasting  continued  for  three  days  at  the  castle  at 
Limoges  ;  then  the  bride  and  groom  invited  all  the  guests 


144  GRAND  MONT. 

to  their  new  home,  where  another  three  days  had  to  be 
spent  in  festivities. 

Among  the  most  officious  at  the  castle  of  Cocu  was  the 
well-known  Lord  of  Lauriere  with  his  lady,  who  was 
once  the  mistress  of  the  home  over  which  the  new  bride 
was  henceforth  to  preside.  The  old  people  tried  to  be  the 
youngest  of  the  company.  The  gallant  lord  especially 
had  more  soft  nonsense  to  say  to  the  feminine  part  of 
the  gathering  than  any  other  of  the  guests,  and  called 
his  bride  "  my  honeycomb."  Indeed,  the  affection  that 
he  lavished  was  the  wonder  of  the  people  and  the  ad- 
miration of  the  ladies,  who  pointed  to  him  as  a  model 
husband.  Lady  Dorat  remarked  to  her  husband,  "  My 
lord,  do  you  see  how  the  Lady  of  Lauriere  is  simply 
adored  by  her  husband,  while  many  of  us  can  hardly 
have  a  word  from  our  lords." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  lord  ;  "  but  you  must  re- 
member that  this  is  Lauriere's  second  wife.  He  never 
called  his  first  'my  honeycomb.'  When  we  get  our  sec- 
ond wives,  we  may  be  just  as  sweet  on  them." 

It  was  also  very  noticeable  that  the  elder  bride 
and  groom  advised  the  younger  to  be  careful  of  the 
larder.  The  wine  was  measured  out  very  sparingly,  and 
the  reckless  waste  seen  at  the  marriage  of  the  old  folks 
was  not  allowed.  It  would  seem  that  they  had  com- 
pletely changed  in  their  ideas,  especially  Madame  Lau- 
riere, who  was  heard  to  remark  :  "  It  is  a  great  deal  more 
wholesome  to  drink  the  wine  of  last  year's  vintage  than 
old  wine.  It  is  much  less  apt  to  give  a  headache,  and 
the  bad  taste  will  be  sure  to  keep  one  from  drinking  too 
much."  The  eating  of  much  meat  would  certainly  pro- 
duce the  plague,  and  it  would  be  necessary  to  let  an 
ounce  of  blood  for  every  pound  of  meat  eaten.  If  one 
wished  long  life  and  happiness,  it  was  best  to  eat  every 
day  for  dinner  little  else  besides  dandelion  salad,  bread, 


A    MEDIAEVAL   MARRIAGE.  145 

and  milk.  These  observations  were  only  made  now  at 
the  Cocu  castle.  At  the  vicomte's  it  was  noticed  that 
the  capacity  of  the  Madame  Lauriere  to  consume  the 
meats,  dainties,  and  oldest  wines  was  unlimited.  It  was 
the  occasion  of  much  remark  among  the  guests. 

The  mother-in-law  also  attempted  to  give  her  daugh- 
ter-in-law some  lessons  about  the  training  of  a  Cocu. 
"  He  just  takes  after  his  father,"  she  said.  "Mind  you, 
now,  the  Cocus  always  have  their  own  way.  It  is  no  use 
trying  to  oppose  them.  You  will  find  yourself  locked  in 
the  castle  if  you  do,  and  your  husband  may  be  gone  for  a 
month.  If  he  wants  to  go  to  bed  with  his  armor  on, 
you  must  tell  him  that  it  is  the  proper  thing  to  do.  If 
he  sends  off  or  exchanges  your  maid  for  a  dog,  do  not 
chide  him,  or  like  as  not  he  will  give  you  nothing  but 
menservants  in  the  house.  If  he  wants  his  dogs  kenneled 
in  your  boudoir,  be  sure  and  pet  them  all,  or  he  may  keep 
them  there." 

How  much  more  she  might  have  said  to  involve 
the  good  name  of  Cocu  is  not  known,  had  not  one  of  the 
inmates  of  the  Lauriere  family  remarked  in  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  over  the  whole  hall,  "  That  is  the 
way  things  go  on  up  at  Lauriere  now,  is  it  ?  "  Mean- 
while the  lord  of  the  last-named  place  advanced  and 
said,  "  Come,  my  honeycomb ;  let  us  take  a  walk  over  the 
grounds  familiar  to  your  youth."  The  dame  offered  no 
resistance,  but  arose  and  went  forth.  As  she  left  the 
room,  a  clown  was  unkind  enough  to  remark  that  "  the 
bees  had  not  all  gotten  out  of  some  of  the  honeycomb 
yet."  This  made  a  laugh,  and  the  new  bride  was  very 
glad  to  escape  the  vexatious  remarks  of  her  mother-in- 
law,  content,  as  are  all  young  brides,  to  find  out  for  her- 
self the  failings  of  her  lord  in  the  hard  highway  of 
life. 

In  spite  of  all  that  the  old  folks  could  do,  everything 


146  GRANDMONT. 

was  most  skillfully  and  carefully  prepared,  and  the  guests 
were  entertained  as  became  the  dignity  of  the  house  of 
Cocu.  At  such  times  as  this,  when  festivities  were  en- 
joyed, a  general  rejoicing  was  had  among  the  poorer 
classes.  Numerous  weddings  were  arranged  to  take 
place  at  the  same  time,  so  that  the  good  time  might  be 
enjoyed  by  all.  No  less  than  four  weddings  among  the 
peasantry  came  off  at  the  nuptials  of  Lord  Cocu. 

To  the  horde  of  servants  were  allowed  the  remnants 
of  the  dishes,  the  heads  and  entrails  of  the  animals,  the 
heads  and  skins  of  eels,  heads  and  feathers  of  the  birds, 
broken  victuals,  and  many  little  odds  and  ends  that  gave 
to  these  poor  wretches  for  once  in  their  lives  a  full 
stomach  and  what  they  called  a  good  time.  These,  like 
little  ships,  followed  close  to  the  great,  so  as  to  enjoy 
their  convoy.  While  sheepskin  and  fustian  for  the 
most  part  were  the  coverings  of  the  humbler  part  of  the 
population,  and  though  with  bare  feet  or  wooden  shoes 
they  danced,  they  had  just  as  much  happiness  and  just 
as  much  pleasure  in  their  way  as  did  their  masters  and 
mistresses  in  the  castle,  with  all  their  fine  fixings  and 
tapestries. 

Innumerable  games  diverted  the  guests.  Races  in 
sacks,  climbing  a  greased  pole,  catching  a  greased  pig, 
feats  of  strength,  hawking  parties,  tournaments,  and  all 
games  and  diversions  known  at  that  time  were  employed 
to  please  and  amuse  a  company. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  gayety  the  monks  of  Grandmont 
were  not  forgotten.  Large  portions  of  the  meats  were 
sent  to  the  "good  men,"  as  they  were  called;  but  Etienne 
and  Hugues  would  not  taste  a  morsel  of  the  dainties. 
Their  hearts  were  too  full  of  sadness  and  woe.  All  appe- 
tite was  gone  as  they  remembered  how  their  own  good 
name  was  at  stake  and  perhaps  ruined  through  the  du- 
plicity and  sin  of  a  brotherhood  of  monks. 


SOLIGNAC  AT  GRANDMONT.  147 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SOLIGNAC    AT   GRANDMONT. 

THESE  were  indeed  gloomy  days  at  Grandmont. 
But  they  were  not  alone  in  sorrow.  The  gay  times 
of  the  last  week  had  been  participated  in  by  the  Lord 
of  Solignac  with  but  little  heart.  His  mind  had  been  on 
Hugues  and  Etienne.  The  third  day  of  the  feast  this 
lord  excused  himself  from  the  hunt  and  took  an  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  Etienne,  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much. 
At  the  same  time  he  wished  to  pay  his  respects  to 
Hugues,  whose  actions  at  his  castle  had  won  his  highest 
esteem.  So,  mounting  his  horse,  he  rode  down  the  hill 
and  over  the  mountain. 

The  morning  was  beautiful,  and  he  could  not  help 
turning  in  his  saddle  now  and  then  to  note  how  the  great 
hills  rolled  like  a  troubled  mass  and  how  the  summits 
were  crowned  with  the  red  heather,  making  a  picture 
pleasing  to  the  eye  and  ever  varying  as  the  undulations 
changed. 

His  good  horse  brought  him  to  the  monastery,  which  at 
that  period  comprised  only  a  few  cells  and  a  rude  chapel. 
Dismounting  he  entered  the  building,  where  the  monks 
were  at  this  time  celebrating  the  Office  of  the  Virgin. 
He  joined  the  assembly  and  knelt  with  them.  The  spirit 
of  the  meeting  seemed  to  take  hold  of  him  also,  and  he 
could  not  fail  to  note  the  difference  between  them  and 
the  Benedictines.  After  the  service  was  over,  he  has- 
tened to  Hugues  and  congratulated  him  on  his  recovery, 
and  greeted  him  in  such  a  way  as  at  once  bewildered  the 
poor  man.  Etienne  asked  them  both  to  his  cell — a  very 


148  GRAND  MONT. 

rare  thing,  for  Etienne  hardly  ever  took  a  stranger  to  his 
little,  rough,  undecorated  hole  in  the  rocks  that  he  had 
for  his  abiding  place.  But  this  was  a  very  important 
matter,  and  there  was  much  that  he  did  not  want  the 
others  to  know.  So,  when  they  were  there  assembled, 
Etienne  said,  "  My  lord,  I  was  pained  beyond  measure 
at  the  letter  I  received  in  your  name,  and  I  hope  that 
before  this  you  have  received  the  one  hundred  sous  that 
I  sent  back  to  you  by  the  hands  of  two  of  the  monks 
whom  you  sent  for  them." 

"  My  father,  you  speak  in  riddles,"  answered  Solignac. 
"  Samson  gave  out  riddles  when  he  wished  to  destroy 
the  Philistines,  I  have  heard;  but  I  hope  that  my  holy 
father  does  not  wish  to  destroy  me." 

"  Far  from  it,  I  wish  you  all  peace  and  happiness," 
answered  the  abbot ;  "  but  I  wish  to  set  myself  right 
and  have  you  see  my  son  Hugues  in  his  true  light,  for 
I  assure  you  that  he  is  not  the  person  that  your  letter 
would  make  him  out  to  be.  There  must  be  a  grievous 
mistake  somewhere." 

"  What  mean  you  by  my  letter?"  answered  Solignac; 
"  and  why  do  you  say  you  hope  I  received  back  the 
one  hundred  sous  ?  Did  you  count  me  unworthy  to 
make  you  such  a  little  gift  as  that  ?  "  said  the  lord,  with 
considerable  irritation. 

"  No,  my  lord,"  said  Etienne ;  "  I  received  with  great 
pleasure  your  gift,  but  when  a  couple  of  messengers 
came  from  you,  and  I  had  a  letter  in  your  name  saying 
that  the  money  was  stolen,  I  straightway  restored  it,  and  I 
only  now  ask  of  you  to  clear  the  character  of  my  faith- 
ful brother  Hugues  of  all  the  imputations  that  have 
been  thrown  upon  it." 

"  My  dear  and  holy  father,  please  explain  yourself.  I 
do  not  understand  anything  of  what  you  speak.  As  for 
my  friend  Hugues  de  Lacerta,  there  is  no  man  that  I 


SOLIGNAC   AT   GRANDMONT.  149 

honor  more ;  and  his  noble  and  heroic  actions  at  my  cas- 
tle have  won  him  the  regard  of  every  true  man,  for  he 
acted  not  only  as  a  brave  knight,  but  as  a  true  Christian ; 
and  I  have  come  to  honor  him  to-day,  if  my  feeble  pow- 
ers can  add  any  glory  to  a  man  who  has  made  himself 
so  great  as  the  former  Lord  of  Chalus." 

"Then,"  said  Etienne,  "he  did  not  willfully  murder 
two  innocent  vassals  of  the  late  Lord  Robert  de  Nevers, 
and  was  not  found  in  the  act  of  robbing  their  dead  bod- 
ies ?" 

The  Lord  of  Solignac  looked  aghast,  and  then  said  : 
"  No,  a  thousand  times  no.  That  false  and  fickle  child 
of  the  father  of  lies  started  that  story  to  save  his  own  hide 
and  get  the  money  that  the  Lord  of  Montbrun  had  given 
him  for  you ;  'but  before  the  wicked  knight  perished 
righteously  on  the  gallows,  he  confessed  all,  and  the  man 
Hugues  is  as  innocent  as  an  angel  of  light  or  the  babe 
just  born." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Etienne  ;  "  but  how  about  the  one 
hundred  sous  ?  Did  he  take  them  by  stealth  without 
your  consent  ?" 

"  No  ;  that  was  impossible,"  replied  the  lord.  "  I 
offered  them  first  to  him  as  a  recompense  for  the  suffer- 
ings that  he  had  undergone,  but  he  would  not  even 
look  at  them,  and  it  was  only  after  much  urging  that  I 
made  him  receive  them  for  your  holiness  ;  then  he  took 
the  money.  Now,"  continued  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  "  I 
feel  it  my  duty  and  my  privilege  to  demand  why  these 
questions  have  been  asked  of  me,  and  why  so  good  and 
holy  a  man  as  Hugues,  whose  life  is  as  changed  as  the 
man  out  of  whom  Christ  cast  the  legion  of  devils,  has 
been  so  maligned  and  ill  treated  ?" 

"  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  know,"  responded  Eti- 
enne ; "  and  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  inform  you  of  all  that  has 
transpired."  Then  he  began  with  the  story  of  how  he 


1 50  GRANDMONT. 

had  sent  Hugues  to  the  Lord  of  Montbrun,  how  the 
money  had  been  given,  and  how  the  affair  with  the  vassals 
on  the  way  back  had  occurred.  "  From  that  time  until 
he  left  your  domain  you  know  the  story  better  than  I." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  excited  lord,  "  I  know  that 
never  have  I  seen  a  braver  or  more  heroic  knight  in 
armor,  or  a  more  faithful  Christian  with  a  cross,  than 
this  same  Hugues." 

Then  Etienne  related  the  long  and  terrible  sickness 
of  the  monk,  his  wild  delirium,  and  the  confession  after 
he  came  to  himself.  "  Three  days  after  Hugues  re- 
turned to  the  monastery,  while  he  was  still  raging  with 
fever,  I  received  this  letter ;  "  and  he  produced  the  first 
letter  of  the  Abbot  of  Solignac. 

The  lord  took  the  letter  and  read  it  over.  When  he 
reached  the  part  where  were  the  accusations  against 
Hugues,  he  ground  his  teeth,  drew  his  sword  half  way 
out  of  its  sheath,  and  drove  it  back  again  as  if  he  were 
stabbing  his  deadliest  foe.  Having  reread  it,  he  handed 
it  back  to  Etienne  and  said  :  "  It  is  a  bundle  of  infernal 
lies  ;  it  is  nothing  but  falsehood.  The  Benedictines  have 
been  so  jealous  because  I  have  spoken  in  your  praise 
and  honored  Hugues  that  they  have  concocted  this 
villainy  for  your  destruction,  but  I  will  force  this 
down  their  lying  throats  with  the  point  of  my  sword  ; " 
and  the  enraged  lord  began  to  rage  around  the  cell 
of  Etienne  and  pour  out  oaths,  every  minute  asking 
pardon  for  saying  what  he  did  say,  and  then  in  the  very 
next  breath  repeating  what  he  had  said  a  moment  be- 
fore. 

Etienne  was  shocked  at  his  rage,  for  he  had  seen  lit- 
tle of  the  world,  and  the  impressions  that  he  had  re- 
ceived while  a  youth  were  early  lost  in  the  long  years  of 
prayer  and  penitence  that  he  had  since  spent  in  solitude, 
contemplation,  and  fasting.  He  could  not  imagine  that 


SOLIGNAC  AT  GRANDMONT.  151 

it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  be  in  such  a  fury,  but  the 
Lord  of  Solignac  was  as  a  summer  breeze  to  what  Hugues 
had  been  only  a  few  months  before.  Now,  as  he  quietly 
sat  there,  he  resembled  the  man  to  whom  the  angry  lord 
had  likened  him  only  a  little  while  before,  namely,  "  the 
man  out  of  whom  the  blessed  Lord  had  cast  a  legion  of 
devils  ;  "  for  he  was  as  gentle  and  as  patient  as  a  lamb, 
and  a  look  of  rebuke  from  Etienne  would  be  more  terri- 
ble to  him  now  than  an  army  of  opponents  before. 

Etienne  quieted  the  master  of  Solignac  and  made  him 
promise  to  do  nothing  violent  before  hearing  the  other 
letters.  First  he  read  the  letter  to  the  abbot.  That  so 
added  to  his  anger  that  he  shook  with  temper,  and  kept 
crying  out,  "  O,  the  villains  !  O;  the  perjurers !  O,  what 
hypocrites  !  "  and  many  such  appellatives.  "  Now,"  said 
Etienne,  "  I  have  here  another  letter  that  I  wish  you  to 
hear  calmly  and  say  whether  it  is  true."  Then  he  began 
to  read  the  letter  purporting  to  come  from  the  lord  him- 
self. As  he  continued,  the  man  whose  name  was  forged 
became  livid  with  anger.  His  ideas  of  the  Benedictines 
had  not  been  as  high  as  they  might  have  been,  but  now 
he  thought  them  worse  than  fiends.  He  had  great 
difficulty  to  restrain  himself  from  loud  outbursts  of 
profanity  and  anger.  Never  since  Etienne  had  made 
those  rocks  his  habitation  had  they  resounded  with 
so  much  wrath  and  swearing.  The  enraged  master  of 
Solignac  said  that  he  would  drive  every  Benedictine 
from  his  domain  ;  that  he  would  appeal  directly  to  the 
Bishop  of  Limoges,  and,  if  necessary,  go  to  Rome  him- 
self to  have  the  charters  immediately  withdrawn,  and 
vowed  death  to  all  the  guilty. 

Etienne  said  :  "  May  God  forgive  these,  who,  like 
Judas,  have  sought  to  betray  innocent  blood  ;  but,  my 
lord,  it  is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God  and  man  that  any- 
body should  be  condemned  without  having  a  trial.  There 


152  GRANDMONT. 

may  be  some  very  innocent  and  godly  persons  among 
those  whom  you  in  anger  would  sweep  away  with  the 
besom  of  destruction.  I  cannot  admire  your  ungovern- 
able passion.  Righteous  indignation  is  allowed,  but  I 
pray  thee  let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon  thy  wrath.  I 
would  much  rather  be  in  Hugues's  place  than  in  that  of 
the  guilty  ones.  It  is  better  to  be  sinned  against  than 
to  sin." 

With  many  other  words  he  attempted  to  assuage  the 
wrath  of  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  and  finally  extorted  from 
him  a  promise  that  he  would  no  nothing  by  himself,  but 
would  have  all  done  in  the  presence  of  the  Bishop  of 
Limoges,  to  whom  the  Benedictines  were  subject.  After 
joining  with  the  monks  at  a  service  of  the  dead,  the  lord 
was  about  to  depart,  when  a  thing  that  he  had  forgotten 
crossed  his  mind,  and,  going  again  to  the  cell  of  Etienne, 
he  said,  "  Pardon  me,  my  father  ;  but  I  have  omitted  to 
ask  about  the  money.  In  my  anger  I  have  lost  what 
you  said  about  two  messengers  from  me  asking  for  it." 

Etienne,  fearing  that  he  might  be  aroused  to  greater 
anger,  dismissed  him  by  saying  that  he  would  tell  him 
the  next  morning  after  the  sunrise  mass.  This  satisfied 
Solignac,  who  went  away  planning  in  his  own  mind  how 
he  should  bring  the  rascals  to  justice. 


THE   HUNDRED   SOUS.  153 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    HUNDRED    SOUS. 

THE  Benedictines  were  greatly  aroused  by  the  gift  to 
Etienne  and  by  what  they  deemed  the  intrusion 
into  their  section.  To  add  to  their  vindictiveness  was 
the  fact  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  together  with  the 
nobility  around,  felt  specially  drawn  to  the  austere  lives 
of  the  mountain  hermits.  The  high  rank  of  Etienne 
and  the  adherence  of  Hugues,  whose  conversion  was  so 
apparent  that  no  one  could  deny  it,  all  combined  to 
give  the  public  a  very  just  and  lofty  idea  of  the  piety  of 
the  men  of  Grandmont.  The  Lord  of  Solignac  had  helped 
to  kindle  these  fires  of  jealousy  by  declaring  in  the  most 
public  places  the  holiness  of  the  monks  of  Grandmont, 
and  especially  Hugues,  whose  conduct  he  held  up  be- 
fore the  Benedictines  as  the  quintessence  of  nobility  and 
Christianity.  This  continual  sounding  of  the  praises  of 
those  whom  the  monks  considered  as  rivals — for  the 
Benedictines  were  established  long  before  Etienne  was 
born — fanned  the  fires  of  envy  and  jealousy  into  flames, 
which  were  only  seeking  a  vent  to  break  forth  into  fury. 
To  do  justice  to  the  Benedictines,  it  is  but  fair  to  say 
that  many  of  them  had  no  ill  feelings  in  their  hearts  to- 
ward the  men  of  Grandmont.  The  abbot  had  never  read 
a  word  about  the  matter,  and  the  letters  he  signed  he 
thought  contained  only  words  of  commendation.  The 
Italian  brother,  Jaco,  had  been  at  the  root  of  all  of 
the  difficulty.  His  logic,  as  before  given,  had  created  the 
sentiment  that  the  Benedictines  were  the  wronged 
party.  His  hand  had  penned  the  letters,  and  he  had 
10 


1 54  GRANDMONT. 

fired  several  others  with  bitterness  toward  the  brothers 
at  Grandmont.  Eager  to  get  that  one  hundred  sous 
given  by  his  lord,  he  had  dispatched  two  monks  with 
the  following  letter  to  Etienne  the  next  day  after  the 
messenger  of  Etienne  returned  with  the  forged  letter : 

"To  OUR  DEARLY  BELOVED  AND  HOLY  ETIENNE  : 
The  letter  from  your  sacred  hand  that  we  have  received 
has  only  made  us  know  more  certainly  that  the  reports 
we  have  heard  of  your  holiness  are  in  no  way  exagger- 
ated, but  fail  to  do  you  justice.  We  send  by  the  hand  of 
our  two  faithful  brethren  this  letter  to  assure  you  of  our 
deep  sympathy  for  you  in  being  made  the  victim  of  such 
an  archfiend  as  Hugues  de  Lacerta.  But  grieve  not,  be- 
loved ;  the  blessed  Lord  had  a  Judas  in  his  camp,  and  it 
is  possible  that  even  so  holy  a  man  as  you  can  be  de- 
ceived by  such  a  wretch.  But  as  the  holy  Evangelist 
said  of  the  archtraitor,  so  can  you  say  of  him,  '  He  will 
go  to  his  own  place.  God  have  mercy  on  his  wretched 
soul ! '  In  the  meantime  these  worthy  brothers  will  re- 
ceive from  you  the  money  that  the  robber  stole  from  the 
Lord  of  Solignac,  who  has  asked  us  to  present  this  note 
to  you.  With  the  deepest  sorrow  and  most  fraternal 
greeting, 

"  We  remain  yours  devoutly, 

"  ABBOT  OF  SOLIGNAC." 

Two  mornings  after  the  return  of  Etienne's  messen- 
ger the  two  monks  appeared  at  Grandmont  bearing  this 
and  a  special  note,  which  said  :  "  Desiring  that  no  one 
might  know  the  scandal  that  has  been  done,  lest  'the 
daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  may  rejoice,'  we  have 
not  told  anyone  of  the  sorrow  that  has  befallen  both 
us  and  you ;  therefore  be  pleased  to  say  nothing  to  these 
innocents  about  the  affair,  as  they  have  no  intimation 


THE  HUNDRED   SOUS.  155 

from  us  of  the  crime  which  we  most  sincerely  deplore 
and  wish  to  hush  up  as  soon  as  the  guilty  one  has  been 
put  out  of  the  way." 

Etienne  said  nothing,  but  brought  out  the  one  hun- 
dred sous  and  gave  them  into  the  hands  of  the  monks, 
from  whom  he  took  a  receipt.  He  gave  the  money  in 
the  presence  of  the  whole  chapter,  and  no  one  knew 
why  or  wherefore  except  Hugue's  and  the  master.  The 
two  visitors  sought  to  be  very  agreeable.  They  in- 
quired particularly  after  the  health  of  Etienne,  and  they 
joined  in  several  of  the  services  with  great  energy,  chant- 
ing louder  than  all  of  the  other  monks  and  making  the 
genuflections  and  signs  in  the  most  approved  manner. 
They  were  very  particular  to  note  all  about  Hugues, 
sought  his  company,  endeavoring  to  draw  him  out  in 
conversation  and  seeking  to  know  all  about  his  sick- 
ness. But  Hugues  was  reticent  and  had  almost  nothing 
to  say,  retreating  to  his  own  cell  and  spending  the  time 
there  in  praying  that  the  sins  of  the  guilty  might  be  par- 
doned. 

After  vain  attempts  to  get  information  from  several 
others  the  two,  bearing  the  price  of  lies  and  of  blood, 
started  on  their  return.  This  was  several  days  before  the 
wedding,  and  the  news  of  the  coming  festivities,  with  the 
hope  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac  would  come,  made 
Hugues  and  his  abbot  willing  to  wait.  Etienne's  fa- 
vorite theme  in  conversing  with  Hugues  was  on  the 
wonderful  providence  of  God.  "  There  is  nothing  that 
can  happen  without  God's  will.  The  little  sparrow  that 
dies  in  the  stinging  cold  or  the  tender  birdling  that  is 
crowded  out  of  its  nest  and  tumbles  to  the  earth  un- 
fledged falls  because  in  some  way  God  permits  it.  God 
dwells  in  a  light  so  intense  that  human  eyes  cannot 
penetrate  it ;  and  as  when  you  see  the  sun  in  steady 
gaze  for  a  while  your  eyes  are  darkened  with  tears,  so 


156  GRANDMONT. 

when  you  look  at  God  you  see  '  clouds  and  darkness 
round  about  him,'  but  remember  that  'righteousness 
and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne.'  He  may 
take  John  to  Patmos  in  the  prisons  of  the  tyrant  as  a 
quarry  slave,  but  he  will  reveal  unto  him  the  glories  of  the 
blessed  ;  he  will  make  him  see  what  eye  hath  not  seen 
nor  mind  conceived.  Who  would  not  sooner  be  on 
Patmos,  with  the  iron  chain  clanking  around  the  feet,  the 
overseer's  whip  now  and  then  drawing  blood  from  the 
back,  and  be  'in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's  day,'  and  see  the 
Son  of  man,  and  listen  to  the  celestial  music,  and  stand 
before  the  great  white  throne  with  the  elect  and  the 
elders — who,  I  say,  would  not  be  willing  to  have  the  one 
and  the  other?  So,  my  beloved  Hugues,  the  clouds  and 
darkness  will  be  but  the  entrance  into  the  invisible 
glory  of  God,  and  you  are  walking  in  the  very  footsteps 
of  the  holy  martyrs.  Paul  speaks  of  the  shipwrecks, 
stoning,  stripes,  and  imprisonment ;  yet  in  the  glorious 
end  he  will  bring  thee  forth  like  the  gold  tried  in  the 
furnace  heated  seven  times.  Though  it  be  by  the  powers 
of  evil,  yet  will  it  make  the  pure  gold  shine  with  the 
more  brilliant  luster." 

Hugues  listened  to  these  words  and  drank  them  in 
as  from  the  very  fountain  of  inspiration.  The  effect 
that  they  had  upon  his  mind  was  to  make  him  wish  for 
greater  hardships.  His  only  regret  was  that  he  alone 
could  not  be  tortured.  He  did  not  want  to  have  the 
good  life  of  Etienne  clouded  with  anxiety,  but  that  he 
could  not  help. 

The  gathering  on  the  hill  where  the  castle  of  Cocu  was 
situated  that  evening  was  brilliant.  Around  the  table, 
laden  with  the  spoils  of  the  day's  sport,  were  gathered  a 
host  of  the  gentry  of  central  France.  The  enjoyment 
was  great.  Buffoons  were  there,  who  performed  for  the 
amusement  of  the  company.  Jugglers  acted  and  showed 


THE   HUNDRED   SOUS.  I$7 

off  their  tricks.  Even  some  troubadours  were  present, 
who  vied  with  each  other  in  singing  their  best  songs  and 
rattling  off  extempore  verses  to  the  ladies  of  the  com- 
pany. But  the  Lord  of  Solignac  sat  in  silence.  He  had 
no  heart  for  the  merriment  of  the  hour.  There  was 
no  fun  for  him  in  the  jests  and  no  interest  in  the  strange 
tricks.  He  sat  like  one  absorbed  and  preoccupied.  Fre- 
quently during  the  evening  did  his  fellows  chaff  him  by 
asking  if  he  had  seen  a  nymph  or  if  he  were  suffering, 
but  to  all  he  gave  a  good  humored  answer  that  satisfied 
them  and  soon  sought  his  own  couch. 

The  Lord  of  Solignac  took  leave  of  his  host  the  night 
before,  as  he  said  that  he  .had  an  engagement  at  a  dis- 
tance by  sunrise  ;  so  the  order  was  given  to  raise 
the  portcullis  and  lower  the  drawbridge  at  the  visitor's 
bidding.  After  a  restless  night  as  the  first  gleam  of 
gray  came  through  the  little  narrow  slot  in  the  castle 
wall  that  at  the  same  time  served  for  a  window  and  a 
place  from  which  arrows  could  be  shot  at  an  attacking 
enemy,  Lord  Solignac  arose,  hastily  dressed  himself,  and 
descended  to  the  court.  There  he  found  his  charger 
all  ready,  and,  throwing  a  handful  of  small  coins  to  the 
servants,  he  started  out. 

It  was  but  a  short  ride,  and  he  reached  the  monastry 
just  as  the  sun  was  rising.  Fastening  his  horse,  he  went 
into  the  apology  for  a  chapel,  and  there  joined  the 
brothers  in  their  devotions.  After  this  he  went  to  the 
cell  of  Etienne  and  found  that  Hugues  and  his  master 
were  waiting  for  him.  Before  speaking  they  all  three 
knelt  in  silent  prayer  for  several  minutes,  and  then 
Etienne  turned  to  his  visitor  and  said,  "  Good  morn- 
ing, my  lord.  I  trust  that  you  have  had  a  pleasant 
night." 

"  Thanks,  holy  father,"  replied  Solignac.  "  My  pillow 
was  made  of  pointed  rocks  that  gave  no  resting  place  ; 


158  GRAND  MONT. 

but  pardon  me,  I  pray  thee,  as  I  am  in  great  haste  to 
bring  this  matter  to  an  end,  and  therefore  beg  of  you  to 
tell  me  what  you  promised  at  our  parting  yesternight." 

"  I  will,  my  lord,  but  remember  that  the  promise  of 
doing  nothing  violent  is  still  binding  upon  you,  and 
that  what  you  do  will  be  done  only  with  the  approval 
the  Bishop  of  Limoges." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Solignac,  bowing  his  head  and  as- 
suming a  waiting  and  attentive  attitude,  which  Etienne 
rightly  interpreted  as  a  motion  to  proceed.  Lifting  up 
some  pine  boughs  that  formed  his  pallet  over  the  stone 
bed,  he  brought  out  the  hypocritical  letter  from  the 
abbot,  with  the  deceitful  postscript,  in  which  the  crime 
was  again  alleged  to  have  been  committed  by  Hugues, 
at  the  same  time  asking  for  the  money  which  had  been 
sent  to  Etienne. 

Solignac  was  dumbfounded  at  the  audacity,  theft,  and 
insolence.  Then  he  gasped  out,  "  And  did  you  give  the 
scoundrels  the  money  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  Etienne.  "I  would  not  keep 
for  a  second  what  a  person  thought  was  theirs,  and  I 
have  their  receipt  for  the  same." 

"Show  it  to  me,"  cried  Solignac,  and  Etienne  pro- 
duced the  paper  signed  by  the  two  monks  with  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  Then,  taking  the  letters,  he  said  :  "  Only  the 
signature  of  these  letters  is  by  the  abbot.  That  relieves 
me  somewhat,  as  I  think  he  is  a  good  man,  though  he 
gives  little  heed  to  his  monastery."  He  was  a  younger  son 
given  over  to  monastic  orders  because  his  father's  estate 
was  not  to  be  divided,  and  that  seemed  to  be  about  the 
only  thing  to  do  with  him.  He  entered  that  kind  of 
life  as  a  trade,  and  was  content  to  eat  and  drink  and 
say  his  prayers,  wishing  to  be  left  undisturbed  as  much 
as  possible.  Around  him  a  clique  had  formed  who  knew 
his  moods  and  weaknesses,  and  under  such  a  skillful 


THE   HUNDRED   SOUS.  159 

maneuverer  as  Jaco  he  was  only  a  tool.  Solignac  knew 
this  and  tried  to  arouse  him,  but  in  vain.  The  abbot  of 
the  Benedictines  was  under  the  control  of  his  monks, 
and  it  was  easier  to  remain  in  that  condition  than  to 
break  the  gyves.  He  disliked  trouble  and  believed  the 
Benedictines  more  than  the  lord;  so,  while  he  assented  to 
the  lord,  he  followed  the  advice  of  his  fellows. 

The  thing  that  puzzled  the  mind  of  Solignac  was  that 
the  signatures  of  the  receipt,  "  Benoit "  and  "  Zaccheus," 
were  not  the  names  of  any  persons  of  whom  he  had  ever 
heard,  and  he  thought  that  he  was  familiar  with  every 
monk,  since  all  their  names  had  to  appear  on  his  list,  as  he 
was  accustomed  to  allow  them  so  much  per  capita  for  every 
one  in  the  order.  Having  a  list  with  him,  he  looked 
it  over  and  called  upon  Etienne  to  examine  it,  but  the 
signers  were  not  mentioned,  and  no  such  names  could 
possibly  be  found.  Then  a  careful  description  of  them 
was  given  him.  Hugues  said  that  he  recognized  them  as 
the  two  that  confessed  Judas  as  he  was  about  to  be  hung. 

"  But  their  names  were  Alexandres  and  Julius,"  said 
Lord  Solignac. 

"  I  do  not  know  the  names  of  them,  but,  as  I  shook 
Judas  to  make  him  drop  the  dagger,  both  of  these 
rushed  at  me,  and  one  has  a  blear  in  the  right  eye, 
while  the  other  has  a  scar,  as  if  made  by  a  sword  cut, 
over  the  left  cheek." 

"Yes,"  said  Lord  Solignac,  "that  is  a  good  descrip- 
tion of  Alexandres  and  Julius ;  but  why  do  they  give 
false  names  here  ?  " 

"That  I  cannot  tell,"  replied  Etienne,  "but  hope  it 
will  all  come  out  right  some  way,  that  the  Benedictines 
may  be  cleared  of  all  guilt,  and  that  whoever  is  guilty 
may  seek  forgiveness  and  be  pardoned.  I  am  content 
as  long  as  my  dear  brother  Hugues  is  proven  innocent, 
as  he  is  by  you,  my  lord." 


l6o  GRANDMONT. 

"  Yes,  he  is  as  innocent  as  one  can  be  ;  but  what 
shall  be  done  with  the  guilty,  who  have  sought  his 
blood,  stained  his  good  name,  forged  my  name,  and 
stolen  the  money  that  was  sent  to  you?  " 

"  I  pardon  them  all  that  they  have  done  to  me,"  said 
Etienne. 

"  And  I  forgive  all  their  villainies  against  me,"  said 
Hugues. 

"  But  I  hold  you  both  as  witnesses.  Know  you  not 
that  to  compound  a  crime  is  to  aid  the  criminal  ? "  said 
Lord  Solignac,  severely,  "and  it  is  as  much  your  duty 
to  guard  your  good  name  and  that  of  your  brother 
Hugues  as  it  is  to  merit  that  good  name  by  holy  living." 

Etienne  said  he  was  not  accustomed  to  look  on  the 
law  that  way,  but  the  logic  was  all  on  the  side  of  Solig- 
nac, and  Etienne  at  last  consented  to  allow  the  letters 
to  be  used  in  testimony  and  to  permit  Hugues  to  testify 
before  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  at  the  trial. 

The  lord  then  hastily  bade  farewell  to  Etienne,  re- 
ceiving his  blessing,  and,  giving  Hugues's  hand  a  hearty 
grasp,  mounted  his  horse  and  was  off  for  Limoges  to  see 
the  bishop. 


SOLIGNAC   MEETS   HIS   BISHOP.  l6l 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SOLIGNAC   MEETS   HIS   BISHOP. 

AT  Solignac  among  the  Benedictines  there  was  quite 
a  bustle  when  it  was  heard  that  the  lord  had  gone 
to  the  wedding  of  the  young  Lord  Cocu.  It  had  been 
his  custom  always  to  take  with  him  a  couple  of  these 
monks  whenever  he  started  on  such  a  trip,  but  now  he 
went  alone.  Lady  Solignac  was  too  ill  to  leave  the  castle, 
and  the  lord  departed  accompanied  only  by  a  couple 
of  grooms  and  valets.  They  knew  well  the  proximity 
of  Grandmont  to  the  castle  of  Cocu,  and  were  in  fear 
lest  the  lord  might  see  Hugues  and  their  whole  plan  be 
discovered. 

However,  they  formed  another  plot.  They  made  a 
formal  complaint  to  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  accusing 
Hugues  of  murder,  theft,  hypocrisy,  and  being  in  league 
with  the  devil,  and  asked  that  Hugues  be  brought  before 
him  for  trial.  The  charges  were  well  specified  and  drawn 
up  so  as  to  leave  the  impression  on  the  mind  of  one 
reading  them,  that  they  were  incontrovertible. 

So  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  was  in  no  pleasant  mood 
toward  Hugues  or  the  monks  of  Grandmont.  There  had 
always  been  a  little  feeling  against  Etienne  on  the  part 
of  the  bishop  because,  according  to  the  papal  bull,  he 
was  exempt  from  the  authority  of  the  bishop,  and  had 
the  right  of  appealing  directly  to  the  pope  himself. 
While  the  bishop  could  not  compel  either  Etienne  or 
any  of  his  monks  to  appear  before  him,  their  refusing  to 
do  so  would  be  a  serious  thing,  and  form  a  good  ground 
of  complaint  that  might  be  carried  to  the  Roman  see. 


1 62  GKANDMONT. 

The  idea  of  the  Benedictines  was  to  get  this  matter 
before  a  court  that  was  prejudiced  in  their  favor,  and  so 
have  a  verdict  given  in  their  interest,  even  if  after- 
ward the  pope  overruled  it.  This  was  thought  to  be 
enough  to  prejudice  the  rising  monastery  of  Grandmbnt 
in  the  eyes  of  the  nobility,  and  as  a  result  the  Benedic- 
tines would  reap  the  reward.  There  was,  however,  a 
secret  understanding  that  nothing  should  be  done  until 
the  result  of  the  letter  was  known. 

After  Lord  Solignac  had  started  for  the  wedding,  a 
monk  had  been  dispatched  to  keep  watch  and  note 
whether  he  visited  Grandmont  or  not.  This  detective 
had  seen  the  lord  go  to  Grandmont  the  first  day,  and, 
coming  quite  near,  had  heard  enough  of  the  loud  talking 
and  cursing  to  know  that  the  plot  was  discovered  and 
that  Hugues  was  vindicated.  Waiting  for  no  more,  he 
hastened  to  Solignac  with  the  news. 

After  hearing  this  Jaco  related  a  vision  of  the  Virgin 
that  had  appeared  to  him  in  the  night  and  bade  him  make 
a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  but  assuring  him  that  the  guilty 
Hugues  would  be  brought  to  justice,  and  that  the  Bene- 
dictines would  be  greatly  enriched,  as  all  the  nobles 
would  hasten  to  bestow  alms  on  them  as  the  favored  of 
God.  Urging  his  fellows  to  continue  the  prosecution, 
he  begged  leave  to  act  in  accordance  with  his  vision  and 
start  for  Rome.  The  shrewd  Italian  knew  well  that 
the  angry  Lord  of  Solignac  would  uproot  the  whole  plot, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  but  disgrace  before  them,  and 
he  took  this  opportunity  to  leave  before  the  storm  that 
his  villainy  had  gathered  should  burst  upon  them.  He 
was  careful  to  avoid  the  highroad  that  led  toward  Rome, 
and  journeyed  a  long  way  with  the  different  parties  of 
crusaders,  so  as  to  be  lost  in  a  multitude.  In  that  way  he 
avoided  for  a  time  the  indignation  that  he  had  kindled 
against  himself. 


SOLIGNAC   MEETS   HIS   BISHOP.  163 

Meanwhile  Solignac  had  arrived  at  the  episcopal 
palace  at  Limoges.  The  castle  and  the  city  were  two 
very  separate  institutions.  In  one  dwelt  the  Vicomte 
de  Limoges,  who  was  master,  and  in  the  other  dwelt  the 
bishop,  who  was  also  master,  and  many  were  the  wars  be- 
tween the  two,  and  the  narrow  boundary  or  dividing  line 
which  separated  them  was  often  strewn  with  the  wounded 
and  dead  of  both  sides.  Just  now  there  had  been  a 
peace,  and  the  marriage  of  young  Cocu,  at  which  the 
bishop  officiated,  had  smoothed  matters  over  for  a  little 
while. 

The  Lord  of  Solignac  himself  was  in  good  repute  with 
the  bishop,  who  had  a  fondness  for  the  Benedictines, 
and  especially  the  abbey  of  Solignac,  which  was  the 
largest  and  most  important  under  his  jurisdiction.  So, 
when  he  knocked  at  the  episcopal  palace  gate,  he 
received  a  quick  and  most  cordial  welcome  from  his 
grace  and  was  received  in  a  most  becoming  style.  He 
was  at  once  invited  to  the  bishop's  table,  his  horse  was 
well  cared  for,  and  all  was  done  that  could  be  to  make 
him  both  comfortable  and  happy. 

The  hospitality  was  welcome  to  the  lord,  who  had  rid- 
den for  several  hours,  and,  as  he  had  eaten  nothing  since 
the  night  before,  he  was  ready  for  the  good  cheer  that 
loaded  the  bishop's  table.  The  conversation  turned 
naturally  on  young  Cocu,  his  fine  prospects,  and  his  pretty 
bride.  Solignac  carefully  avoided  any  reference  to  the 
real  object  of  his  visit  until  after  the  meal.  He  then 
requested  to  see  the  bishop  in  private. 

The  bishop  was  just  as  anxious  for  this  interview  as 
Lord  Solignac,  for  he  wished  to  consult  with  him  how 
best  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  Benedictines  against 
Etienne,  as  he  supposed  that,  on  account  of  location 
and  of  the  well-known  friendship  and  large  donations 
that  Solignac  had  bestowed  upon  the  monks  of  his 


164  GRANDMONT. 

neighborhood,  all  his  sympathies  would  be  with  them. 
So  they  were  naturally,  but  the  lord  was  a  just  man  and 
had  a  desire  to  act  impartially,  and  the  change  that  had 
come  over  Hugues  made  him  have  great  confidence  in 
the  hermitage  started  under  the  direction  of  the  Vicomte 
de  Thiers. 

Now,  being  alone  with  the  bishop,  he  opened  the  con- 
versation by  saying,  "  My  father,  I  wish  to  put  to  you 
some  questions  that  are  too  difficult  for  me  to  an- 
swer." 

"  Speak  on,  my  son,"  answered  the  bishop.  "  You  have 
always  been  so  good  and  faithful  that  I  am  sure  you 
could  not  go  far  astray." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  the  lord,  "be  kind  enough  to 
tell  me  what  should  be  done  to  the  monks  who  would 
deliberately  seek  to  destroy  the  name  and  fame  of  brother 
monks,  who  seek  to  rob  and  have  actually  stolen  a  large 
sum  of  money  from  others  poorer  than  themselves,  and 
who  have  added  to  other  crimes  attempts  to  murder  ?  " 

"  O  !  can  it  be  possible,  can  it  be  possible  ?  I  did  not 
think  that  they  had  fallen  so  low  as  that,"  said  the 
bishop.  "  Alas !  alas  !  what  would  our  holy  father,  the 
pope,  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  But  I  have  come  to  ask  you  what  should  be  done  to 
these,"  said  Solignac. 

"  Done  ?  "  said  the  bishop.  "  Why,  they  should  be 
publicly  stripped  of  their  robes  before  the  congregation 
in  the  cathedral.  They  should  be  made  to  sit  in  stocks 
all  the  day  with  their  crimes  written  on  large  placards  on 
their  backs,  while  a  crier  should  call  out  before  the  pub- 
lic their  ignominy  and  shame.  They  should  be  excom- 
municated by  the  Church,  and  after  that  be  handed  over 
to  the  righteous  and  avenging  arm  of  the  secular  power, 
such  as  your  own,  and  methinks  you  would  know  well 
what  to  do  with  them." 


SOLIGNAC   MEETS   HIS   BISHOP.  165 

"  Is  that  the  sentence  that  you  would  pronounce  ?  " 
asked  Solignac  eagerly. 

"Yes,"  said  the  bishop,  who  thought  that  he  was  about 
to  complain  of  Etienne  and  Hugues.  "  That  is  what  I 
would  do  with  them,  had  I  the  power." 

"  Will  you  kindly  give  orders  for  one  of  your  clerks 
to  write  that  out  so  that  I  can  read  it  ?  "  said  Solignac. 

"With  pleasure,"  said  the  bishop,  and,  calling  for  one 
of  his  clerks,  he  gave  the  order  as  follows : 

"I,  Bishop  of  Limoges,  give  as  my  judgment  that  any 
abbot,  monk,  or  ecclesiastic  of  any  kind  who  shall  be 
guilty  of  willfully  maligning  brother  monks  for  their  own 
aggrandizement  or  for  the  prejudice  of  another,  or  who 
shall  be  guilty  of  taking  money  that  is  not  lawfully 
theirs,  either  by  theft  or  false  representation,  or  who 
shall  be  guilty  of  murder  or  attempts  at  murder ;  any 
monk,  ecclesiastic,  or  abbot  who  shall  be  guilty  of  any  or 
all  of  these  crimes,  than  which  there  are  none  greater, 
should  be  brought  into  the  cathedral  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  congregation,  stripped  of  the 
ecclesiastical  robes  or  vestments  that  they  may  wear ; 
then,  after  hearing  the  censure  of  the  bishop,  should  be 
put  either  in  stocks  or  else,  after  being  bound,  should  be 
escorted  around  the  city,  preceded  by  the  town  crier,  who 
should  recount  their  crimes  and  degradation ;  and,  after 
this  has  been  done,  they  should  be  brought  back  to 
the  cathedral,  where  they  should  be  solemnly  excom- 
municated, and  after  that  delivered  over  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  secular  law  to  receive  the  due  reward  of 
their  crimes,  which  were  committed  not  only  against  the 
Church,  but  also  against  the  public  good. 

"  (Signed,)  JL    BISHOP  OF  LIMOGES." 

The  parchment  was  then  given  to  the  Lord  of  Solig- 
nac, who  carefully  folded  it  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 


1 66  GRANDMONT. 

"I  hope,"  said  he,  "to  bring  you  the  creatures  within 
three  days." 

"  Good !  "  said  the  bishop.  "  But,  alas  !  I  have  no 
control  over  the  monastery  of  Grandmont.  I  have 
no  right  to  judge  either  Etienne  or  Hugues  or  any 
of  the  company  gathered  there.  They  are  under  the 
special  protection  of  the  holy  see,  and  we  are  power- 
less against  them.  But  I  can  send  to  Rome  and  seek 
the  revocation  of  the  order,  or  have  the  charter 
amended  so  that  they  shall  be  put  in  the  reach  of  my 
power." 

"  But  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  monks  of  Grandmont 
at  all." 

"  O,  as  for  the  Benedictines,  I  have  complete  jurisdic- 
tion over  them.  But  you  have  no  complaint  to  make 
against  those  worthy,  lawful,  and  godly  children  of  the 
Church,  whom  may  all  the  saints  bless,"  said  the  bishop, 
beginning  to  fear  that  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  his  judg- 
ment and  there  dawned  upon  his  mind  the  fact  that 
perhaps  he  had  been  caught  in  a  trap  set  by  his  own  lips. 
"  I  can  certainly  hear  no  complaint  from  their  best  friend 
against  them,"  continued  the  bishop,  very  much  discon- 
certed by  Solignac's  remark  that  he  had  no  complaint 
against  the  men  of  Grandmont. 

"I  have  come  to  show  your  holiness  the  perfidy,  the 
villainy,  the  base  ingratitude,  besides  greater  crimes,  of 
the  Benedictines  of  Solignac,"  said  the  lord  in  a  low  but 
determined  voice,  such  as  a  man  employs  when  he  is 
confident  of  success  and  has  forced  the  turn  of  affairs  so 
that  he  can  direct  it. 

"  But  I  was  not  speaking  of  the  Benedictines,"  inter- 
rupted the  bishop ;  "  I  was — " 

"Your  grace  only  seeks  truth  and  righteousness," 
broke  in  the  lord,  "and  certainly  can  be  no  respecter  of 
persons." 


SOLIGNAC  MEETS  HIS  BISHOP.  167 

"But  I  only  spoke  of  parties  over  whom  I  had  no 
control,"  said  the  bishop,  thoroughly  excited,  and  seek- 
ing to  find  some  way  out  of  the  dilemma  into  which  his 
eagerness  to  crush  Etienne  and  Hugues  had  placed  him. 

"  I  come  to  you,"  said  Solignac,  "  as  the  honored  bishop 
of  this  great  diocese.  The  matter  of  persons  no  one 
who  has  any  claim  to  the  seat  of  a  righteous  judge,  such 
as  you  are,  can  consider  for  a  moment.  Brutus  ordered 
his  own  son  to  execution,  and  he  was  a  pagan  judge, 
and  shall  you  not  be  more  just  than  he  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  you  will ;  I  can  but  listen,"  said  the 
bishop  bitterly. 

"  Hear,  then,"  said  the  lord.  "  It  is  now  four  months 
since  I  was  called  upon  most  unexpectedly  to  decide 
between  the  cowardly  Lord  Robert  de  Nevers  and 
Hugues  de  Lacerta."  Then  followed  a  correct  state- 
ment of  the  whole  transaction  as  before  given,  in  which 
the  noble,  manly  conduct  of  Hugues  was  ably  contrasted 
with  the  meanness  of  Robert.  The  attempt  to  poison 
Hugues  was  also  repeated,  and  also  the  would-be  assassi- 
nation, the  gift  of  money,  followed  by  the  letters  of  the 
Abbot  of  Solignac,  with  the  answers  of  Etienne,  and  the 
forgery  of  Lord  Solignac 's  signature  and  the  reclaiming 
of  the  money,  together  with  the  implied  assurance  of  the 
assassination  of  Hugues  if  sent  in  accordance  with  the 
wishes  of  the  Benedictines. 

The  bishop,  whose  whole  sympathy  was  on  the  side  of 
the  latter,  sighed  heavily  at  the  news,  but  said  :  "  My 
worthy  lord,  you  recount  terrible  charges  against  the 
brothers  of  your  neighborhood,  but  I  can  see  no  proof 
of  your  accusations.  I  know  well  the  writing  of  my 
friend  the  abbot,  and  I  assure  you  that  is  not  in  his  hand. 
Some  evil-minded  persons  have  sought  to  add  to  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  monks  of  Grandmont  and  have  falsified 
these  things  against  them.  You  have  been  too  hasty, 


1 68  GRANDMONT. 

my  lord.  Give  me  the  positive,  undeniable  proof,  and 
I  will  proceed  against  even  my  own  father,  God  bless 
him,"  said  the  bishop,  who  at  once  began  to  throw  all 
the  obstacles  possible  in  the  way  of  Solignac,  whose 
success  he  wished  most  heartily  to  hinder.  "  But  take 
my  advice,  Sir  Knight,"  said  the  bishop,  haughtily, 
having  dropped  all  his  affectionate  appellatives,  "and 
be  careful  how  you  lay  your  hands  on  God's  elect.  Take 
heed  how  you  listen  to  that  child  of  the  devil,  Hugues 
de  Lacerta,  whose  innumerable  crimes  have  bound  him 
so  close  to  the  evil  one  that  no  power  on  earth  can 
break  them,  and  who  goeth  about  now,  like  his  father 
the  devil,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour.  His  honeyed 
words  and  flattering  tongue  may  deceive  you,  but  I  have 
here  the  proofs  of  his  guilt,  and  will  shortly  bring  him 
to  justice  or  have  the  whole  order  of  Grandmont  up- 
rooted as  an  upas  tree  that  poisons  the  earth." 

So  spake  the  excited  and  angry  bishop,  who  hoped 
to  cow  Solignac  and  frighten  him  off  from  bringing 
accusations  against  his  friends,  the  Benedictines. 

Solignac  arose  to  take  his  leave,  saying  significantly, 
"  My  father  the  bishop  will  see  justice  done  here,  or 
there  is  a  higher  court  where  we  will  see  that  the  wrong 
shall  be  punished."  So  saying,  he  kissed  the  bishop's  ring 
and  started  out,  the  bishop  coldly  bowing  out  his  guest. 

Solignac  had  no  sooner  departed  than  the  bishop 
called  together  a  couple  of  his  faithful  servants,  and, 
writing  a  letter  in  great  haste  to  the  abbot  of  the  Bene- 
dictines at  Solignac,  informed  him  of  the  dangerous  at- 
titude of  the  lord  of  that  place,  and  advised  him  to  send 
off  the  plotters,  so  that  they  might  all  justly  swear  to 
their  innocence.  The  letter  was  delivered  by  mistake 
to  the  abbot  himself,  who  took  it  to  his  cell  to  read  and 
forgot  all  about  it,  thinking  that  it  was  of  no  great  im- 
portance. 


AN  ARROW   IN  THE  DARK.  169 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AN    ARROW    IN   THE    DARK. 

IN  the  meantime,  Solignac  was  constrained  by  the  eti- 
quette of  the  time  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Vicomte  de 
Limoges,  who  made  him  stay  to  an  early  dinner,  so  that 
it  was  dark  before  he  quitted  the  castle.  But  the  ride 
to  his  castle  was  not  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  as 
he  had  been  absent  now  about  a  week,  he  refused  all 
further  invitations  and  started  for  home. 

He  descended  the  steep  hill  that  led  down  to  the 
Vienne  and  across  the  old  bridge  of  St.  Martial.  There 
was  one  glimmering  torch  that  served  to  make  the 
darkness  more  visible  on  the  bridge,  but  the  walls  were 
raised  on  each  hand,  so  that  he  had  no  fear  of  his  horse 
going  over  the  side,  and  the  retreats  every  little  way 
over  the  piers  gave  a  chance  for  passers-by  to  wait 
until  he  had  passed.  Just  as  he  reached  the  other 
side  he  felt  the  sharp  blow  of  an  arrow  which  struck 
the  plate  on  his  back.  Wheeling  his  horse  in  an  instant, 
he  chased  the  retreating  figure  so  vigorously  that 
he  was  on  him  before  the  adversary  was  aware.  Not 
waiting  for  his  sword,  he  seized  the  robe  of  the  would-be 
assassin  and  found  it  was  that  of  a  Benedictine.  The 
rascal  struggled  hard,  and  finally  succeeded  in  divesting 
himself  of  his  robe,  escaping  naked  across  the  bridge. 
All  was  darkness,  and  it  was  impossible  to  pursue  the 
wretch,  who  had  made  good  his  retreat. 

Turning  his  horse's  head  once  more  toward  his  cas- 
tle, he  rode  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  the  lord  was  in  his  own  domain.  He  had 
11 


I/O  GRANDMONT. 

brought  with  him  the  garment  of  his  would-be  murderer. 
Not  waiting,  he  went  immediately  over  to  the  abbey 
and  demanded  admittance,  which  was  granted. 

He  went  immediately  to  the  prior  and  demanded  that 
all  of  the  monks  should  be  called  at  the  midnight 
prayers,  and  also  that  none  should  be  allowed  to  leave 
or  to  enter  the  monastery  without  his  consent  for  three 
days,  under  pain  of  his  serious  displeasure  and  the  threat 
of  the  withdrawal  of  all  the  benefits  that  he  bestowed. 

At  the  midnight  mass  all  were  assembled,  and  the  roll 
was  called.  There  was  an  answer  to  every  name,  but 
Solignac  saw  that  there  was  an  evident  attempt  to  hide 
something.  He  took  from  his  own  pocket  the  list  from 
which  he  was  wont  to  furnish  them  supplies,  and  asked 
each  monk  to  step  forward  as  his  name  was  called. 
When  he  came  to  the  name  of  Jaco,  there  was  a  pause. 
No  one  dared  to  say  that  he  had  gone  until  the  prior 
admitted  that  he  had  been  missing  three  days,  having 
been  permitted  to  go  on  a  visit  to  Rome  in  accordance 
with  his  dream. 

Solignac  scowled,  and  found  on  going  over  the  names 
that  Virtulus  was  missing.  He  had  been  sent  on  a  mis- 
sion to  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  and  had  not  returned, 
they  said.  He  asked  for  the  number  or  sign  of  Virtu- 
lus, and  found  that  it  was  the  cross  and  the  skull,  the 
same  which  he  had  noticed  on  the  robe  out  of  which  the 
assassin  struggled.  But  he  did  not  tell  the  monks  why 
he  had  thus  summoned  them  or  why  he  had  set  his  or- 
ders that  none  should  leave  without  his  express  consent. 

In  addition  to  his  orders  he  had  set  several  of  his 
own  men  to  watch  the  roads,  and  especially  to  guard  the 
gate  and  doorway  of  the  abbey.  Having  made  up  his 
mind  as  to  who  the  guilty  party  was,  he  went  to  rest.  A 
little  after  midnight  there  was  loud  knocking  at  the  port- 
cullis, and  before  him  was  dragged  the  almost  naked 


AN   ARROW   IN   THE   DARK.  1 71 

and  terribly  frightened  Virtulus.  Standing  there  before 
the  lord  with  only  his  nether  garment  on,  mud  be- 
spattered and  scratched,  he  was  a  piteous  sight,  and  his 
terror  knew  no  bounds  when  he  was  face  to  face  with 
the  man  whom  only  a  few  hours  before  he  had  attempted 
to  assassinate. 

At  first  he  tried  to  deny  his  identity,  to  make  out 
that  he  was  not  Virtulus.  He  tried  to  stammer  out  some- 
thing when  questioned  as  to  his  name  and  why  he  was 
found  out  of  the  abbey  at  that  time  of  night  without  his 
long  brown  cloak  or  robe.  He  gave  as  an  excuse  that 
he  had  been  sent  to  Limoges  by  the  prior  on  some  busi- 
ness with  the  bishop,  but  the  only  excuse  that  he  gave 
for  the  missing  garment  was  that  he  had  been  pursued 
by  the  devil  and  had  thrown  it  aside  because  it  hindered 
his  progress. 

"  Very  strange,  very  strange,"  answered  the  lord,  who 
now  ordered  the  monk  off  to  the  dungeon  and  locked  him 
in  and  took  the  key  to  his  own  chamber.  Then,  calling  for 
a  light,  it  occurred  to  him  to  examine  the  cloak  carefully. 
Turning  it  wrong  side  out,  he  found  a  letter  concealed 
in  the  folds  bearing  the  mark  of  the  Bishop  of  Limoges, 
addressed  to  the  prior.  Lord  Solignac  had  no  com- 
punctions about  opening  and  reading  the  contents  of  the 
letter.  It  was  in  the  name  of  the  prior,  and  was  evi- 
dently a  reply  to  certain  questions.  The  prior  had 
noted  that  the  servant  of  the  bishop  came  and  went  in 
all  haste,  and  knew  that  the  abbot  had  received  letters 
from  the  bishop  a  little  after  three  o'clock,  and  he  knew 
that  those  letters  would  not  be  examined  by  their  re- 
ceiver before  the  next  day,  if  ever.  Curious  to  know 
what  they  were  about,  and  not  daring  to  disturb  his  su- 
perior, he  had  sent  Virtulus  to  ascertain  all  that  he  could. 
This  worthy  brother  had  hurried  to  Limoges,  and  ar- 
rived shortly  before  the  lord  had  left  the  castle  of  the 


1/2  GRANDMONT. 

vicomte.  The  bishop  had  hastily  written  the  note 
which  was  fastened  in  the  garment,  which  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  To  THE  HOLY  PRIOR  OF  SOLIGNAC,  IN  GREAT 
HASTE  :  Unwisely  I  addressed  two  letters  to  the  abbot 
this  morning  instead  of  yourself ;  but  let  this  inform 
you  that  all  the  plots  that  you  have  made  against  the 
monks  of  Etienne,  and  especially  against  Hugues,  are 
known  to  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  who  is  greatly  enraged. 
He  has  seen  the  receipt  which  Julius  and  Alexandres 
have  signed  for  the  money  that  they  took  from  Etienne 
through  the  forged  letter.  Send  off  these  monks  as 
soon  as  possible,  for  it  is  quite  sure  that  the  lord  will  be 
detained  at  the  vicomte's  all  night.  To  add  to  your 
discomfiture  he  has  my  written  and  signed  judgment 
against  you,  which  I  innocently  thought  I  was  writing 
against  the  monks  of  Grandmont.  The  monks  must  be 
sent  off  to  another  place  or  the  Lord  of  Solignac  removed 
by  some  way.  If  the  angel  of  death  should  suddenly 
strike  him,  it  would  be  a  blessing  for  the  Benedictines. 
I  need  give  you  no  further  instructions,  as  your  own 
good  judgment  will  teach  you  what  you  ought  to  do. 
"  In  haste,  yours  devotedly, 

"  BISHOP  OF  LIMOGES." 

The  monk  had  heard  the  bishop  read  the  letter  out 
loud,  and  from  the  violent  expressions  knew  that  the  re- 
moval of  the  lord  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  order. 
He  incidentally  asked  if  there  was  a  good  bow  with  some 
arrows  (and  the  bishop  winked  at  a  servant,  who  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  find  them)  with  which  to  defend  him- 
self, and  the  Benedictine  started  to  get  back  to  Solignac 
that  night,  and  had  only  reached  the  old  bridge  when 
he  heard  the  tramp  of  the  horse's  feet  that  he  rightly 


AN   ARROW   IN   THE   DARK.  173 

surmised  bore  the  enemy  of  his  order.  To  draw  his 
bowstring  to  the  farthest  notch,  to  place  an  arrow  in 
rest  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  and,  hiding  where  the 
light  would  shine  upon  Solignac's  back,  he  thought  that 
he  had  his  enemy  in  his  power  ;  and  had  not  a  good  plate 
of  steel  protected  him,  the  Lord  of  Solignac  would  have 
perished  that  night,  and  his  body  would  have  been  car- 
ried down  the  swift  current  of  the  Vienne.  But  that 
steel  plate  had  upset  the  whole  plan,  and  instead  of 
being  received  with  honor  and  glory  by  the  Benedic- 
tines the  wretch  was  in  the  dungeon  of  his  would-be 
victim,  and  the  letter  in  the  hands  of  the  one  against 
whom  it  was  addressed.  Certainly  there  was  little  con- 
solation or  hope  for  the  poor,  weary,  frightened,  guilty 
wretch,  who  stretched  himself  in  the  dungeon  where  a 
few  months  before  Hugues  was  confined. 

The  Lord  of  Solignac  bethought  himself  of  the  bow,  and 
started  off  two  of  his  servants  to  search  the  bridge  care- 
fully at  the  first  break  of  day.  This  they  did,  and  shortly 
after  sunrise  came  back  with  the  bow,  which  bore  the 
device  of  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  for  all  the  bishops  at  that 
time  maintained  an  armed  force  to  repel  marauders  and 
maintain  order.  He  had  simply  given  the  murderous 
Virtulus  one  of  these,  to  do  with  it  what  he  saw  fit. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  two  servants  were  sent  to 
search  for  the  bow  a  new  expedient  came  to  Solignac.  He 
sat  down  and  hastily  made  a  good  copy  of  the  bishop's 
letter  and  sent  it  by  a  servant  to  the  monastery.  Virtulus 
had  only  a  short  beard  and  was  an  undersized  man. 
There  was  a  cute  fellow  among  the  servants  of  the  castle 
who  might  easily  be  taken  for  the  wretch.  So,  cutting 
his  hair  that  he  might  have  a  tonsure,  and  putting  on  the 
garment  of  Virtulus,  he  bade  him  go  to  the  monastery  and 
make  believe  that  he  was  the  man  in  the  dungeon,  and 
hear  all  that  he  could,  and  find  out  who  were  the  ones 


174  GRANDMONT. 

most  implicated.  He  wanted  to  know  whether  the 
monks  would  receive  anybody  without  his  orders,  and 
whether  he  was  judging  rightly. 

Virtulus,  after  passing  the  lord's  guards,  had  no 
difficulty  in  gaining  admittance.  The  door  was  opened 
and  he  was  hastily  received.  The  poor  fellow  hardly 
knew  what  to  do,  but  said  he  had  taken  a  severe  cold 
and  could  hardly  speak ;  so  he  answered  in  a  very 
hoarse  voice  and  coughed  so  violently  that  they  did  not 
press  him  with  questions,  saying,  "  Let  him  wait  until  the 
morrow."  But  the  prior,  who  was  on  hand,  opened  the 
letter,  which  was  a  good  imitation  of  the  bishop's  hand, 
and  read  the  contents  to  the  crowd.  There  were  only 
about  ten  present,  most  conspicuous  among  whom 
were  Julius  and  Alexandres. 

"  I  wish,  by  all  the  saints,"  said  the  prior,  "  that  we  had 
not  started  in  this  business.  It  will  only  bring  disaster  upon 
us.  We  accuse  Hugues  of  what  we  know  he  is  innocent, 
and  we  will  not  rest  until  we  have  proven  ourselves  guilty. 
Let  us  stop  the  whole  thing  and  give  back  the  one  hun- 
dred sous  and  be  friends  with  the  men  of  Grandmont." 

"  You  have  not  the  good  of  the  Benedictines  at  heart," 
said  Alexandres.  "You  would  see  the  gifts  all  turned 
away  and  ourselves  turned  off,  no  one  knows  where,  just 
because  that  imp  of  the  devil,  Hugues,  wins  all  hearts 
by  his  wiles." 

"  Did  you  not  promise  our  dear  brother  Jaco  that  you 
would  see  the  honor  of  our  abbey  vindicated  ?  "  put  in 
Julius.  "  And  is  this  the  way  that  you  would  keep  your 
promise  ?  " 

"  Suppose  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac  does  know  some 
of  our  plottings,  we  will  bring  the  necessary  proof  to 
show  conclusively  that  we  are  innocent,  and  can  show 
any  number  of  alibis  for  our  good  brothers  Julius  and 
Alexandres,"  said  another. 


AN  ARROW   IN   THE   DARK.  175 

"  Had  we  not  better  find  a  way  of  escape  for  these 
two  ?  "  put  in  a  third. 

"  No,"  replied  the  prior  ;  "  that  would  be  a  confession 
of  judgment,  and  as  he  saw  these  brothers  here  last 
night,  he  must  find  them  here  to-morrow." 

"But,"  suggested  a  fifth,  "Virtulus  has  come  since 
then." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  prior,  " one  can  escape.  Let 
them  cast  lots  to  see  which  it  shall  be." 

Lots  were  cast  and  Alexandres  was  taken,  and  so  he  at 
once  started.  The  door  was  opened  and  he  softly  stole 
out,  but  he  had  not  gone  very  far  in  the  darkness  before 
there  was  a  strong  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  a  blade 
in  close  proximity  to  his  heart,  with  a  threat  that  if 
any  noise  or  resistance  was  made  he  would  be  instantly 
dispatched.  After  this  he  was  conducted  to  the  lord's 
castle  and  found  a  place  in  a  dungeon  near  that  of 
Virtulus. 

Lord  Solignac  attended  the  early  mass  next  morning 
and  noted  who  were  present.  His  quick  eyes  soon  dis- 
covered Virtulus's  cloak  with  his  servant  in  it,  and  after 
the  ceremony  was  finished  he  invited  that  would-be  monk 
and  the  prior  to  go  over  to  the  castle,  which  they  did.  He 
had  the  monk  wait  outside  a  moment,  ushered  the  prior 
into  his  private  room,  excused  himself,  and  as  he  went 
out  noiselessly  turned  the  key  on  the  outside  so  as  to 
secure  the  prior,  and  began  to  catechise  the  servant. 
He  soon  found  out  all  he  wished  to  know,  ascertaining 
that  the  ringleaders  were  few  in  number,  that  the  abbot 
himself  knew  nothing  of  what  was  going  on,  and  that  the 
prior  was  acting  against  his  conscience  and  better  judg- 
ment. After  gaining  this  knowledge  he  dismissed  the 
servant,  ordering  him  to  put  on  his  own  clothes  and  give 
up  the  monk's  habit.  Then  he  went  back  to  the  prior, 
who  had  only  been  in  durance  about  half  an  hour.  This 


1/6  GRANDMONT. 

individual  was  not  so  bad  by  nature  as  might  be  supposed 
from  the  remarks  that  he  made  at  the  reception  of  the 
letter  from  the  bishop,  although  from  certain  intrigues  it 
would  seem  that  he  was  steeped  in  iniquity ;  but  his  soul 
revolted  from  actual  crime.  He  thought  that  when  he 
could  gain  anything  by  intrigue  it  was  lawful  prey,  but 
he  would  have  opposed  every  open  crime,  like  murder  ; 
indeed,  intrigue  was  one  of  the  fine  arts,  and  it  was  con- 
sidered a  lawful  practice  in  his  time.  The  sinfulness  of 
the  scheme,  like  theft  among  the  Spartans,  consisted 
in  being  found  out,  and  if  a  statue  were  erected  in 
ancient  Sparta  to  the  youth  who  stole  a  fox  and  hid  the 
beast  under  his  garments,  stoutly  denying  the  theft 
while  the  fox  was  gnawing  at  his  vitals,  nearly  every 
prior,  abbot,  bishop,  cardinal,  and  pope  of  the  Middle 
Ages  might  put  in  an  equal  claim  to  be  remembered  by 
posterity. 

The  prior  pretended  to  be  totally  absorbed  in  medi- 
tation as  the  lord  reentered,  and  when  the  latter  began 
to  apologize  for  keeping  him  waiting,  he  simply  answered 
that  it  was  of  no  consequence.  "  I  was  communing  all  the 
time  with  St.  Martial."  This  is  the  patron  saint  of  Li- 
moges, and  the  one  whom  all  the  Limo.usins  believe  to  be 
the  lad  that  carried  the  loaves  and  two  fishes  for  the 
Saviour  in  the  wilderness.  They  say  he  became  the  first 
Bishop  of  Limoges,  and  show  a  skull  which  they  claim 
to  be  his,  bearing,  they  say,  the  marks  of  the  divine 
fingers ;  but  the  impression,  as  seen  to  day,  appears  more 
like  a  fracture. 

"  A  most  worthy  subject  of  thought,"  said  the  lord. 
"  Now  let  me  call  your  attention  to  things  of  to-day,  and 
tell  me  if  St.  Martial  would  approve  of  them."  Lord 
Solignac  then  recounted  the  whole  history  of  Hugues  and 
Etienne,  told  of  the  letters  sent  from  the  abbot,  which  he 
produced,  also  of  the  forgery  of  his  own  name,  of  his 


AN   ARROW   IN   THE   DARK.  1/7 

visit  to  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  of  the  attack  made  on  his 
life  the  night  previous.  All  these  things  the  lord  set  forth 
in  very  strong  and  impressive  language.  Then  he  con- 
trasted how  he  had  given  a  regular  allowance  of  the  yield 
of  his  lands  to  the  Benedictines  and  the  mean  jealousy 
that  was  aroused  by  his  gift  of  the  one  hundred  sous 
to  Etienne. 

The  prior  was  astounded  by  what  he  heard.  He  saw  at 
a  glance  that  everything  was  known  by  the  lord,  but,  as 
for  himself,  he  denied  any  participation  in  the  schemes, 
and  said  that  he  always  regarded  his  lordship  as  one  of 
the  best  friends  of  the  monastery,  and  acknowledged  their 
entire  dependence  upon  him. 

The  lord  then  asked  if  his  orders  had  been  observed 
carefully.  The  prior  said,  "Yes,  to  the  very  letter." 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  repeated  the  lord. 

"Yes,  I  will  affirm  it  on  the  mass,"  answered  the  prior. 

Two  of  his  servants  were  dispatched  to  bring  up  the 
manacled  Alexandres. 

"  Do  you  know  this  man  ?  "  asked  the  lord  sarcas- 
tically, as  the  monk  entered. 

The  two  men  gazed  at  one  another  in  stupefied  si- 
lence. Finally  the  prior,  recovering  himself,  said  sternly 
to  Alexandres,  "  How  did  you  escape  ?  " 

"  I  opened  the  door  when  all  were  in  their  cells  to  go 
to  carry  some  alms  to  the  hermit  of  Mount  Jovis,"  said 
Alexandres  without  a  blush,  seeking  to  hide  the  guilt 
of  his  master  and  trusting  that  the  same  would  be  done 
for  him. 

The  prior  took  the  hint  quickly  and  said  :  "  I  bade  you 
go,  but  you  should  have  kept  the  lord's  orders.  Know 
you  not  how  much  we  depend  on  his  bounty  ?  I  con- 
demn you  to  bread  and  water  for  a  month  for  this  act 
of  disobedience,  though  I  know  that  your  heart  was, 
right." 


1/8  GRANDMONT. 

Alexandres  bowed  his  head.  Then,  taking  Alexan- 
dres  back  to  his  dungeon,  Solignac  ordered  the  garb  of 
Virtulus  to  be  again  thrown  over  the  servant  and  had 
him  brought  before  the  prior. 

"  Didst  thou  enter  into  the  monastery  last  night  after 
midnight  ? "  asked  the  lord  of  this  new  witness. 

"  I  did,  your  lordship." 

"  Whom  didst  thou  see  there  ?  " 

"  I  saw  the  prior,  (God  bless  him  !)  Alexandres,  Julius, 
and  several  others,"  replied  Virtulus. 

"  Did  the  prior  give  consent  for  any  person  to  leave 
the  abbey  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  allowed  Alexandres  to  escape." 

"  On  what  grounds?  "  asked  Solignac. 

"  Because  I  had  come  in,  and  the  number  would  be 
the  same,"  answered  the  counterfeit  monk. 

"  It  is  false,  thou  evil-tongued,  lying  hypocrite.  I  will 
have  thee  judged  by  the  abbot  for  perjury,  and  thy 
tongue  shall  be  burned  with  red-hot  iron  to  teach  thee 
to  tell  the  truth  about  thy  superiors,"  cried  the  enraged 
prior,  glaring  fiercely  at  Virtulus.  "  Didst  thou  not 
hear  me  say  that  not  a  soul  could  leave  the  abbey,  and 
that  the  lord  must  find  the  same  number  this  morning 
that  he  had  counted  last  night  ? "  he  continued. 

"  Yes,  thou  didst  say  that,"  replied  Virtulus,  trem- 
bling, for  he  feared  the  terrors  that  would  come  upon  his 
soul  if  he  incurred  the  wrath  of  the  Benedictines. 

"  Why,  then,  hast  thou  said  that  I  permitted  Alexan- 
dres to  leave  the  monastery  ?  " 

"Because — because — "  stammered  the  trembling 
servant,  "  because  it  was  true." 

The  lord  came  to  the  rescue  of  his  servant  and  or- 
dered the  pseudo-monk  out  of  his  presence  to  his  cell. 
The  prior  sat  stern  and  dignified.  Turning  to  the  lord 
haughtily,  he  said  :  "  I  appeal  from  you  to  the  noble 


AN  ARROW  IN  THE  DARK.  1/9 

Bishop  of  Limoges  if  I  have  done  wrong.  Meet  me 
there,  and  we  will  have  the  matter  decided  justly  before 
his  grace.  I  am  not  a  dog  to  be  kenneled  and  locked  up 
like  thy  meanest  serf.  I  demand  the  rights  that  belong 
to  my  dignity  and  position." 

"Fear  not,"  said  the  lord;  "  thou  mayst  get  more 
justice  than  thy  taste  will  relish.  Tell  me,  hast  thou 
received  a  letter  from  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  prior;  "  I  receive  letters  from 
him  almost  every  day.  But  what  is  that  to  thee  ?  " 

"  Much  every  way,"  replied  the  lord.  "  Tell  me  what 
were  the  contents  of  the  letter  thou  didst  receive  last 
night  ? " 

"  I  refuse  to  divulge  the  contents  of  a  private  letter. 
It  would  be  unbecoming  in  me,  as  a  son  of  the  Church, 
and  it  is  unbecoming  in  you,  as  a  just  lord,  to  ask  it," 
answered  the  prior. 

"  Perhaps  thy  memory  will  be  aided  by  this,"  said 
Solignac,  and  he  began  to  read  the  letter  that  he  had 
taken  from  the  garment  of  Virtulus. 

The  prior  was  silent  during  the  reading,  and  amazed 
beyond  measure  that  the  lord  had  a  copy  of  the  letter, 
but  still  he  appeared  unmoved.  Solignac  asked,  "  Is 
this  a  copy  of  the  letter  thou  didst  receive  ? " 

"  Thou  knowest  so  much  that  I  will  declare  nothing 
more  to  add  to  thy  information  ;  for  if  thou  canst  way- 
lay messengers  and  take  letters,  there  are  few  things  that 
thou  wouldst  not  descend  to  commit,"  answered  the 
prior  most  bitterly,  at  the  same  time  finding  all  manner 
of  fault  with  Virtulus  for  not  telling  that  the  lord  had 
taken  a  copy  of  the  letter. 

"  I  will  ask  thee  to  wait  here  a  little  while,"  said  the 
lord,  withdrawing. 

"  I  am  in  thy  power ;  do  what  thou  wishest,"  re- 
sponded the  prior. 


180  GRANDMONT. 

Lord  Solignac  now  went  over  to  the  monastery  and 
asked  to  see  the  abbot  himself.  He  was  received  by  an 
elderly  man,  who  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  student 
annoyed  at  being  disturbed  while  at  work.  To  him  the 
lord  related  the  whole  story  from  beginning  to  end.  He 
had  to  repeat  it,  and  produced  the  letters  signed  by 
the  abbot  himself,  which  filled  the  latter  with  horror. 
The  facts  served  to  arouse  the  abbot  fully,  who  put  off 
all  of  the  sluggishness  of  his  nature,  and  at  once  deter- 
mined to  ferret  out  the  whole  truth.  He  saw  the  position 
of  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  and  insisted  in  sending  him  a 
letter  asking  that  the  truth  might  be  manifested  and 
that  the  guilty  parties,  no  matter  who  they  were,  might  be 
brought  to  punishment.  While  assuring  the  bishop  that 
the  letters  bearing  his  signature  were  signed  by  him,  not 
knowing  the  contents,  and  that  he  had  the  very  highest 
reverence  for  Etienne  and  Hugues,  nevertheless  as  scan- 
dal had  been  raised,  he  thought  it  best  that  all  things 
should  be  done  in  public,  and  asked,  therefore,  that  on 
the  third  day  from  that  date  there  might  be  assembled 
at  Limoges  a  solemn  conclave,  that  the  wrongdoer 
might  be  brought  to  justice  and  the  righteous  vindicated, 
"  lest,"  added  the  abbot,  "  we  harbor  serpents  within  our 
bosoms  who  may  not  only  poison  ourselves,  but  bring 
disaster  upon  the  whole  of  the  orders." 

The  letter  of  the  abbot  was  sincere,  and  he  proved 
himself  so  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  Solignac,  who  at 
once  returned  after  obtaining  the  abbot's  word  that  the 
prior  should  be  forthcoming  at  the  given  time  in  Limoges. 
He  returned  to  his  castle,  and,  going  at  once  to  the  cham- 
ber where  the  prior  was  confined,  asked  him,  "  Are  you 
willing  to  have  these  things,  as  alleged,  brought  before 
the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  who  with  the  ecclesiastical  au- 
thorities will  act  as  judges?  " 

The  prior,  thinking  that  he  was  playing  with  loaded 


AN  ARROW   IN   THE   DARK.  l8l 

dice  in  having  the  bishop  for  his  judge,  assented  most 
heartily,  saying:  "I  want  nothing  better  than  that  this 
whole  matter  shall  be  thoroughly  sifted.  I  am  conscious 
of  my  innocence  and  the  guiltlessness  of  the  order.  I 
also  demand  that  you  release  at  once  Virtulus  and  Alex- 
andres,  that  they  may  fit  themselves  by  prayer  and  fast- 
ing and  partaking  of  the  holy  communion  for  the  testi- 
mony that  they  will  give." 

"Fear  not,"  said  Solignac.  "They  shall  give  their 
testimony,  and  for  that  reason  I  will  keep  them  safe. 
They  may  offer  as  many  prayers  as  they  like  and  eat  as 
little  as  they  choose,  but  I  will  take  it  upon  myself  to 
see  that  they  have  nothing  to  hinder  them  in  giving  tes- 
timony." So  saying,  he  opened  the  door  and  told  the 
prior  that  he  had  finished  his  interview  and  that  he  was 
at  liberty  to  retire,  which  the  wily  monk  made  haste  to 
do. 


1 82  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

CATCHING     A     TARTAR. 

ON  reentering  the  monastery  the  prior  was  at  once 
met  by  the  abbot  in  person,  who  ordered  him  to 
his  own  cell,  and  to  wait  there  until  he  came.  Never 
had  the  Abbot  of  Solignac  assumed  such  power  before, 
and  the  prior  was  astonished  at  the  new  turn  that  affairs 
had  taken.  Unquestioning  obedience  he  had  always  de- 
manded of  the  monks  below  him  in  rank,  and  he  was 
accustomed  to  obey,  in  turn,  those  above  him.  While 
he  was  in  his  cell,  the  abbot  called  the  monks  one  after 
another  to  confession,  and  by  careful  questioning  drew 
out  their  side  of  the  story,  which  was  highly  colored. 
They  had  twisted  the  logic  of  Jaco  until  now  they  had 
sworn  to  hypotheses  as  veritable  facts,  and  they  tried  to 
make  Hugues  out  an  incarnate  fiend  and  in  league  with 
the  devil. 

All  these  things  prejudiced  the  mind  of  the  ab- 
bot, who  was  naturally  inclined  to  believe  his  own 
monks,  just  as  a  parent  is  to  take  the  word  of  his  own 
children,  but  the  letters  that  the  nobleman  had  shown 
him  that  morning  proved  that  there  was  conspiracy  of 
some  kind  in  the  very  camp  of  the  Benedictines.  After 
finishing  with  the  monks  the  abbot  called  for  the  prior, 
who  came  from  his  cell  and  made  a  full  confession  of 
all  that  he  had  done  and  knew,  for  he  thought  it  was 
best ;  but  he  gave  such  a  colored  account  of  his  side 
of  the  affair  that  he  did  not  take  much  away  from  the 
bad  impression  made  on  the  abbot's  mind  by  the  con- 
fessions of  the  others. 


CATCHING  A   TARTAR.  183 

The  abbot  chided  the  prior  very  sharply  for  doing 
what  he  had  done,  and  especially  for  the  forged  letter 
asking  for  the  money ;  but  the  prior  declared  that  Jaco 
had  written  the  letter,  and  that  he  assented  to  it  because 
he  thought  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac  ought  to  look  after 
the  interests  of  the  Benedictines  before  he  assisted  the 
beggars  of  Grandmont,  and  especially  as  the  character 
of  Hugues  had  been  so  bad,  and  from  present  indica- 
tions was  no  better.  The  prior  promised  to  hold  him- 
self in  readiness  to  go  with  all  of  the  accused  monks  to 
Limoges,  where  before  the  bishop  they  would  meet  the 
accuser  and  stand  the  tests  of  trial. 

"  May  God  defend  the  right,"  said  the  abbot. 

"  May  God  defend  us,"  whispered  the  prior. 

The  intervening  time  was  spent  in  special  prayers  and 
fasting  by  the  monks,  for  the  abbot  determined  himself 
to  go  and  see  that  justice  was  rendered.  Meanwhile  the 
lord  had  sent  the  following  letter  to  the  bishop  : 

"  To  His  GRACE,  THE  BISHOP  OF  LIMOGES,  GREET- 
ING :  At  the  last  interview  which  I  had  the  honor  of 
having  with  your  grace  it  was  proposed  to  hold  a  trial 
in  the  cathedral  before  the  congregation.  Will  you  be 
pleased,  therefore,  the  third  day  from  this  date,  to  hold 
yourself  in  readiness,  together  with  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  that  surround  your  seat,  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  the  matter  between  the  Benedictines  and  the  monks  of 
Grandmont  which  shall  be  brought  against  certain  monks 
over  whom  you  have  jurisdiction  ;  and  be  prepared  to 
carry  an  appeal  to  the  archbishop,  the  cardinal,  or  to  the 
pope  himself,  if  your  judgment  be  not  in  accordance 
with  the  facts  given  in  testimony.  I  need  not  inform 
you,  I  suppose,  that  my  life  was  attempted  by  a  monk 
who  was  seen  at  your  house  at  the  time  of  or  shortly  after 
my  departure,  with  a  weapon  branded  with  your  special 


1 84  GRANDMONT. 

device.  I  need  not  say,  further,  that  the  letter  sent  by 
you  to  the  Benedictines  is  in  my  possession,  together 
with  the  person  who  went  out  from  your  house  indirectly 
commissioned  to  murder  me.  These  things  I  hold- 
They  will  not  be  produced  at  the  trial,  as  I  wish  to  keep 
them  in  reserve  for  the  appeal  which  will  be  made  if 
you  are  in  any  way  unjust,  and  which  will,  if  necessary, 
open  the  way  for  your  deposition  from  the  sacred  seat, 
like  your  illustrious  predecessor. 

Hoping  that  the  sense  of  justice  which  has  long  been 
dormant  within  you  will  be  so  aroused  by  these  presents 
that  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  make  any  appeals  because 
of  your  determination  to  see  right  done  by  all  parties, 

I  am,  as  ever,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  (Signed,)  LORD  OF  SOLIGNAC." 

The  letter  had  the  effect  of  frightening  the  bishop 
thoroughly.  To  know  that  his  own  letter  was  in  the 
hands  of  Solignac,  and  that  the  very  bow  that  was  used 
in  the  attempt  to  assassinate  him  was  found,  besides  all 
that  he  imagined  that  the  lord  knew  (which  as  yet  he 
did  not  know),  made  the  master  of  the  bishopric  anxious 
to  conciliate  the  lord.  He  accordingly  wrote,  asking 
pardon  for  his  seeming  rudeness,  and  regretting  a  thou- 
sand times  that  a  weapon  with  his  mark  should  be  em- 
ployed against  his  person,  and  declaring  that  what  he 
wrote  he  had  done  under  misapprehensions,  and  at  the 
same  time  assuring  him  that  the  whole  matter  would  be 
tried  on  the  principles  of  justice  and  equity,  concluding 
by  asking  the  lord  himself  to  be  one  of  the  lay  judges  who 
might  add  "  wise  counsel  and  secure  justice  by  his  superior 
knowledge."  He  also  offered  to  invite  Etienne  himself 
to  sit  as  an  associate  judge.  This  was  rare  cunning,  for 
he  knew  well  that  Etienne  was  under  a  vow  not  to  quit 
the  mountains  unless  ordered  to  do  so  by  the  pope. 


CATCHING   A   TARTAR.  185 

The  letter,  however,  satisfied  Solignac,  who  sent  for 
Hugues  to  appear  on  the  third  day.  At  Grandmont 
there  was  also  some  inquietude.  All  were  anxious  but 
Hugues,  who  was  as  calm  and  peaceful  as  if  he  were  pre- 
paring for  the  most  ordinary  duties  of  life.  Etienne 
thought  it  best  to  inform  the  monks  now,  and  at  the  next 
meeting  in  their  chapel,  after  the  regular  service  was 
over,  he  began  as  follows  : 

"  My  brothers,  it  is  not  known  to  you,  but  it  is  never- 
theless true,  that  certain  persons,  evil  disposed,  have 
been  uttering  scandalous  things  concerning  our  beloved 
brother  Hugues.  I  have  examined  into  these  things  and 
have  found,  as  you  might  expect  and  believe,  that  he  is 
perfectly  innocent  of  them.  He  is  to  leave  in  three 
days  for  his  trial  before  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  where  he 
is  willing  to  appear  before  the  court  there  established, 
in  order  that  he  may  testify  as  to  his  own  innocence,  as 
well  as  to  remove  the  stigma  that  would  or  might  other- 
wise be  cast  upon  our  order.  I  will  ask  the  good  brother 
Leo  to  accompany  him  on  this  occasion,  and  will  request 
you  all  to  unite  with  me  in  three  days'  special  fasting  and 
prayers,  that  the  judges  may  have  wisdom  and  grace 
rightly  to  divine  the  truth  and  acquit  the  innocent." 

With  these  words  Etienne  closed,  his  eyes  flowing 
with  tears  and  the  whole  company  of  brothers  sobbing 
out  of  regard  for  Hugues,  whom  they  all  loved  and 
honored. 

Those  two  days  were  very  solemn  days  at  Solignac, 
Grandmont,  and  Limoges.  The  bishop  was  in  a  po- 
sition from  which  he  was  forced  to  act  with  some  sem- 
blance of  justice.  Lord  Solignac  had  refused  to  act  as 
judge  himself,  for  he  said  that  he  was  an  accusing  party, 
but  he  requested  that  the  Lord  of  Aixe  be  selected  as 
his  substitute.  Although  this  lord  had  led  a  life  similar 
to  that  of  Hugues  before  he  came  under  the  influence 

12 


1 86  GRANDMONT. 

of  Etienne,  he  had  never  gone  so  far  as  the  Lord  of 
Chalus,  and  had  a  reputation  of  being  just,  though  he 
at  times  seemed  to  delight  in  cruelty.  For  example, 
having  caught  a  couple  of  highwaymen  who  had  com- 
mitted a  brutal  murder,  he  ordered  them  hung  up 
to  the  nearest  tree,  and  allowed  no  one  to  take  them 
down  until  the  bones  dropped  to  the  earth,  and  the 
birds  of  prey  and  wild  beasts  were  allowed  to  pick 
them.  His  territories  were  kept  in  order  and  his  judg- 
ment was  feared. 

The  Bishop  of  Limoges  murmured  within  himself,  and 
did  not  like  the  prospect  of  seeing  one  of  his  Benedic- 
tines dangling  at  a  rope's  end.  However,  he  was  forced 
reluctantly  to  yield. 

In  order  to  be  a  little  beforehand  some  of  the  brother 
Benedictines  at  Limoges — for  there  was  another  mon- 
astery of  the  same  order  in  that  city — thought  it  would  be 
a  good  idea  to  put  Hugues  out  of  the  way  before  the 
trial  began.  So  a  party  of  three,  disguising  their  faces, 
went  up  along  the  old  post  road  to  Ambazac,  down 
which  they  knew  the  monks  would  come,  and  in  the 
forest  that  covered  the  banks  of  the  Vienne,  toward 
what  is  now  called  St.  Priest,  they  waited  for  Hugues, 
supposing  that  he  would  make  the  journey  alone  ;  fox 
they  knew  that  Etienne  would  not  come,  and  they 
thought  it  would  be  impolitic  for  Etienne  or  Hugues  to 
tell  the  other  monks  until  after  the  trial. 

Hugues  and  Leo  had  left  their  mountain  caves  at 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  counting  on  reach- 
ing Limoges  a  little  after  seven.  The  former  had  not 
entirely  recovered  from  his  late  sickness,  but  was  able 
to  go  around.  He  had  lost  much  of  his  power,  still  he 
carried  his  heavy  staff  that  had  served  him  so  well  on 
former  occasions.  They  walked  along  in  silence  for  a 
while  until  near  St.  Priest,  when  Hugues  asked  his  com' 


CATCHING  A  TARTAR.  1 87 

pan  ion  to  walk  on,  as  he  wanted  to  pray  alone  for  a  few 
moments,  adding  that  he  would  catch  up  with  him.  Leo 
did  as  he  was  bid,  walking  along  fearlessly  in  the  early 
morning,  when  suddenly  Hugues  heard  a  cry,  and  look- 
ing ahead  saw  three  disguised  monks  attacking  his  com- 
panion. He  never  waited  to  finish  his  prayer,  but  before 
they  were  aware  of  it  he  was  upon  them.  The  heavy 
blows  of  his  gnarled  staff  fell  with  precision,  and  though 
not  quite  as  strong  as  when  the  two  robber  vassals  of 
Robert  were  laid  low,  still  they  had  force  enough  to  knock 
two  insensible,  and  the  third  ran  away  with  great  energy. 

In  a  moment  Hugues  was  bending  over  the  body  of 
his  companion,  but  beyond  a  severe  cut  on  his  forearm, 
which  he  had  used  to  parry  a  blow  that  was  thrust  at  his 
heart,  there  was  no  very  serious  wound.  Then  to  make 
sure  of  the  others,  who  suffered  only  from  severe  concus- 
sions on  the  head,  they  were  speedily  bound  by  the  cord 
that  served  to  keep  up  Hugues's  gown  and  driven  before 
the  two  monks  of  Grandmont  toward  Limoges. 

Hugues  was  now  all  on  the  qui  vive.  His  spirit  had 
been  aroused  by  the  fray  of  the  morning,  but  just  what 
to  do  he  did  not  know.  The  monks  had  set  upon  poor 
Leo,  thinking  that  it  was  Hugues,  for  one  of  them  had  said 
as  he  gave  the  thrust,  "  If  thou  art  not  the  devil,  escape 
that ;  "  but  the  quick  raising  of  the  strong  arm  of  Leo, 
who  in  his  youth  had  been  accustomed  to  the  exercise  of 
arms,  had  parried  the  stroke,  receiving  only  a  severe  cut, 
which  his  thick,  heavy  robe  did  much  to  soften.  He 
gave  a  cry  of  surprise  and  stepped  back,  and  by  leaping 
from  side  to  side  had  avoided  a  regular  encounter  until 
the  staff  of  Hugues  had  put  in  its  good  work  from  an 
unexpected  quarter. 

Hugues  thought  it  best  to  march  the  two  right  to  the 
cathedral.  Leo  observed,  "  They  will  be  instantly  put 
at  liberty  by  their  confederates  there." 


1 88  GRANDMONT. 

"Well,"  said  Hugues,  "  shall  we  march  them  off  into 
the  forest  and  secure  them  until  after  the  trial  ?  " 

"  Suppose  that  the  trial  lasts  several  days,  what  will 
the  poor  sinners  do  ?  "  said  Leo. 

"  O,  they  must  not  die  in  their  sins  ;  they  must  surely 
be  converted,"  answered  Hugues. 

Meanwhile,  as  they  were  marching  on  toward  Limoges, 
they  were  met  by  a  company  of  half  a  dozen  Benedic- 
tines, who  had  come  up  from  Limoges  to  hear  the  re- 
sult of  the  plot.  They  were  surprised  to  see  Leo  in 
blood-stained  garments  coming  along  with  Hugues,  and 
the  two  monks,  with  their  hands  bound  behind  them 
and  tied  together  so  scientifically  that  they  were 
doubly  secured,  marching  in  front  like  sheep  driven  to 
the  slaughter.  One  of  the  monks  rushed  up  to  Hugues 
and  cried,  "  Thou  son  of  Beelzebub,  what  dost  thou  mean 
by  binding  these  two  innocent  brothers  ?  Dost  thou 
think  that  thou  art  able  to  exterminate  the  whole  order  of 
the  Benedictines  ? "  And  with  that  he  drew  out  a  large 
dagger  and  made  a  dash  to  cut  the  bands  of  the  cap- 
tives, but  a  rap  on  his  head  brought  him  to  the  ground, 
and  with  the  simple  words,  "  Hands  off,"  Hugues  ordered 
the  six  to  walk  toward  Limoges,  and  not  approach  within 
ten  paces  of  the  captives.  As  these  words  were  spoken 
with  the  voice  of  a  man  accustomed  to  being  obeyed,  and 
as  the  staff  of  Hugues  assumed  a  very  persuasive  attitude, 
the  monks  thought  best  to  comply,  saying  that  when 
they  reached  Limoges  matters  would  be  arranged  in  a 
just  way. 

They  started  on,  intending  to  take  to  the  woods  that 
were  on  each  side  a  little  farther  on,  but  just  at  that  in- 
stant there  was  a  sound  of  horses'  hoofs.  The  monks 
thought  it  might  be  some  one  on  whom  they  might 
call,  and  turning  to  Hugues  again  said,  "Now,  villain, 
unbind  those  men."  They  turned  and  were  picking  up 


CATCHING  A  TARTAR.  189 

stones  to  begin  the  assault,  when  up  dashed  Lord  Solig- 
nac  and  his  party,  who  had  come  to  escort  Hugues  to 
the  cathedral. 

"  Well,  well,  my  brother,  what  have  you  here?  "  cried 
the  lord,  as  he  saw  the  monks  with  stones  in  their  hands 
and  the  others  bound.  "  A  fine  hunt  you  have  had  this 
morning.  What  means  this  blood  on  Leo  ?  Well,  you  have 
not  all  turned  flagellants  ?  "  said  he,  laughing. 

"  This  personification  of  the  devil,"  cried  one  of  the 
Benedictines  who  was  bound,  "  set  upon  us  unarmed 
while  we  were  praying  and,  after  beating  us  until  we 
were  nearly  dead,  bound  us  and  commanded  us  to  march 
ahead  like  two  cattle  to  be  butchered." 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  veritable  madman,"  said  the  fellow  who 
had  sought  to  cut  the  bands.  "  He  gave  me  a  stroke  on 
my  head  that  has  raised  a  lump  as  large  as  your  fist,  be- 
cause I  spoke  in  favor  of  the  innocent  men  that  he  is 
martyring." 

"You  have  not  told  your  story,"  said  Lord  Solignac 
to  Hugues. 

"  You  speak,  Leo,"  said  Hugues.  "  I  am  no  orator  ; 
but  I  can  make  a  few  gestures  yet,  can't  I  ? "  said 
he,  as  he  looked  at  one  of  the  monks  who  had  felt  his 
staff. 

Leo  began,  and  repeated  the  whole  story  of  the  assault 
and  of  Hugues's  valiant  rescue. 

"  Just  what  I  would  have  expected  from  Hugues,"  said 
the  lord,  and  with  that  he  blew  a  loud  blast  on  his  horn, 
and  within  a  couple  of  minutes  a  score  of  vassals  on 
horseback  came  dashing  up. 

"Here,"  said  the  lord  ;  "march  all  these  monks  off  to 
the  castle  of  the  vicomte  as  my  prisoners.  Allow  no 
one  to  approach  the  two  who  are  bound.  Take  one  of  the 
chains  that  you  have  with  you  and  bind  them  hand  and 
foot  together,  and  have  them  placed  in  the  deepest 


IQO  GRANDMONT. 

dungeon.  Keep  the  others  in  custody  at  my  charge  until 
I  come  after  the  trial. 

"We  protest;  we  are  innocent,  and  have  done  no  harm 
to  any  person,"  cried  the  six  monks. 

"  Silence  !  "  thundered  the  lord.  "  If  any  of  them 
opens  his  mouth  while  on  the  way,  clap  on  the  irons." 

The  vassals  did  as  required,  and  in  a  few  moments 
Hugues  had  his  old  rope  girdle  back  in  its  accustomed 
place,  and  all  further  anxiety  concerning  the  prisoners 
was  at  an  end.  They  were  hurried  off  to  the  castle  dun- 
geons, while  Solignac  accompanied  Hugues  and  Leo  to 
the  cathedral. 

Contrary  to  the  general  rule,  Hugues  said,  "I  am 
hungry  and  wish  to  eat  something  before  the  trial."  The 
excitement  was  severe  for  him,  and  he  wished  to  be  pre- 
pared for  what  might  come.  Certainly  the  opening  had 
not  been  very  promising.  The  malice  of  the  Benedic- 
tines knew  no  bounds,  and  it  was  very  evident  that  by 
fair  means  or  foul  they  meant  his  destruction. 

"  Fear  not,"  spoke  Leo.  "  Thy  God  is  with  thee. 
The  powers  of  hell  cannot  disturb  thee.  Etienne  is 
praying  for  thee." 

Hugues  said  he  feared  not  for  himself,  but  he  did  not 
wish  to  bring  sorrow  and  disgrace  upon  the  heads  of 
his  poor  brother  monks,  and  especially  upon  Etienne, 
whom  he  loved  so  dearly. 

The  fears  were  all  ungrounded.  Solignac  had  en- 
listed the  vicomte  in  his  favor,  and  all  the  neighboring 
lords  were  present  and  sided  with  him.  While  all  of  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities  were  in  favor  of  the  Benedic- 
tines, they  were  afraid  of  the  gentry,  and  between  the 
two  it  was  pretty  certain  that  no  one  was  to  be  seriously 
hurt. 


IN  THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.   MARTIAL.        IQI 
CHAPTER   XIX. 

IN    THE   CATHEDRAL   OF    ST.    MARTIAL. 

THE  bells  of  old  St.  Martial  sounded  long  and  loud 
that  morning.  Not  since  the  visit  of  Urban  II  had 
such  an  assembly  gathered  under  the  ancient  roof. 
According  to  the  custom  it  was  first  necessary  for  all  of 
the  assembly,  the  accused  and  the  accusers,  to  attend 
mass. 

What  an  assemblage  it  was  !  The  seats  or  boxes  for 
the  gentry  were  all  filled  with  the  first  families  of  the 
center  of  France.  Each  one,  with  his  crest  and  armorial 
bearings,  occupied  the  place  assigned  him.  The  most 
important  personage,  of  course,  was  the  Vicomte  de 
Limoges,  who  was  also  an  assistant  judge  with  the  Comte 
d'  Aixe.  The  bishop  had  two  ecclesiastics  as  his  as- 
sistants, and  presided.  The  mass  was  most  impressive. 
The  chanting  priests,  the  acolytes  swinging  their  censers, 
the  priests  in  their  rich  robes  were  an  imposing  pageant, 
and  on  his  throne,  with  plumes  waving  above  his  head, 
in  his  long  robe  of  purple  and  gold,  sat  the  bishop, 
crowned  with  his  hat  of  red  and  gold. 

The  services  being  ended,  the  bishop  arose,  and  after 
bowing  toward  the  pyx  turned  toward  the  assembly  and 
said  :  "  It  is  with  unspeakable  sorrow  that  we  have 
learned  that  great  and  terrible  scandals  have  arisen 
within  our  diocese.  Holy  orders  have  been  profaned 
with  the  vilest  depravity.  When  our  holy  father  was  here, 
he  publicly  rebuked  the  monks  of  Uzerche  for  concubin- 
age and  lasciviousness  ;  but  methinks  that  even  these 
are  lesser  crimes  than  some  stand  accused  of  before  this 
bar  of  God.  We  detest  the  thief  always;  but  when  men 


IQ2  GRANDMONT. 

invested  with  the  sacred  robes  of  monks  are  guilty,  the 
crime  is  a  hundredfold  more  terrible.  When  added  to 
this  is  the  unpardonable  sin  of  perjury,  it  becomes  intol- 
erable ;  but  when  besides  this  there  exists  the  intent  and 
the  act  of  willful  murder,  the  culprit  is  beyond  the 
limit  of  mercy  and  should  be  condemned  by  both  the 
Church  and  State.  And  yet  there  is  a  crime  more 
heinous  than  these  already  mentioned — it  is  that  of  be- 
ing in  league  with  the  devil.  If  a  man  sells  himself  to 
the  evil  one,  and  for  the  price  of  his  own  soul  obtains 
certain  powers  over  his  fellows  by  which  he  can  carry  on 
his  infernal  works,  that  one  is  as  guilty  as  the  devil  him- 
self of  all  crimes,  and  there  is  nothing  in  all  the  galaxy 
of  sinfulness  that  he  is  not  guilty  of,  for  he  is  a  fellow- 
partaker  with  the  devil,  and  rightly  merits  the  condem- 
nation of  God  and  men.  Now,  therefore,  before  the  trial 
begins,  in  order  that  the  guilty  ones  may  know  that  there 
is  no  respect  of  persons  with  me,  I  do  hereby  declare 
that  the  one  who  shall  be  proven  guilty  shall  be  pub- 
licly censured  here  in  this  solemn  assemblage  by  me, 
shall  then  be  escorted  by  certain  officers  around  the  city 
and  the  inclosure  of  the  castle,  while  a  public  crier  shall 
proclaim  before  the  multitude  the  crimes  that  he  has 
committed ;  then  he  shall  be  brought  back  to  the  cathe- 
dral and  publicly  degraded  from  his  office,  divested  of 
his  robe,  and  excommunicated  ;  after  that  he  shall  be 
given  over  to  the  secular  power  to  be  put  to  death  in 
the  way  that  they  shall  deem  proper."  Then,  turning  to 
his  associate  judges,  he  asked,  "  Does  this  meet  your  ap- 
proval ?  "  They  all  signified  their  assent.  "  Now  let  all 
the  accused  come  to  the  bar." 

The  clerk  of  the  bishop  began  to  read  the  names. 
The  first  called  out  was  Hugues  de  Lacerta,  and  up  rose 
the  old  monk  and  walked  to  the  rail  of  the  altar,  where 
he  knelt.  The  bishop  intended  to  call  no  more,  but 


IN   THE   CATHEDRAL   OF   ST.    MARTIAL.        193 

Solignac  arose  and  demanded  that  the  other  accused 
persons  be  also  brought  forward. 

"  No,"  said  the  bishop ;  "  we  will  try  one  at  a  time." 

"  I  demand  that  the  others  be  brought  forward  and 
that  this  court  decide  between  them,"  thundered  So- 
lignac. 

The  lay  judges  said :  "  The  lord  is  right.  How  can 
we  judge  between  two  unless  both  are  placed  on  trial?" 

The  two  ecclesiastics  were  silent,  and  the  bishop  said : 
"  Since  it  seems  good  to  my  fellow-judges  that  all  the 
accused  should  be  tried  at  once,  we,  only  seeking  jus- 
tice to  all,  yield  to  their  request,  and  order  that  all  who 
are  accused  shall  take  their  places  at  the  bar." 

The  clerk  then  began  and  read  the  names  of  Virtulus, 
Alexandres,  and  Julius.  Solignac  arose  and  asked  what 
was  the  charge  against  Virtulus.  This  was  the  way  that 
the  bishop  took  to  get  his  worst  witness  out  of  his  en- 
emy's hands.  The  bishop  answered  that  he  understood 
that  there  were  charges  against  that  monk,  but  would 
erase  the  name  if  objection  was  made. 

The  name  was  erased,  and  Alexandres  and  Julius 
took  their  places  opposite  Hugues. 

"  I  call  for  the  prior  of  Solignac,"  demanded  the  lord, 
and  the  prior,  who  thought  that  he  was  to  be  only  a  wit- 
ness and  not  one  of  the  accused,  arose,  and  from  the 
lofty  place  reserved  for  the  dignitaries  demanded  what 
was  alleged  against  him. 

"The  crimes  mentioned  in  the  bishop's  speech,"  an- 
swered Solignac.  Trembling,  he  protested,  but  was 
compelled  by  the  bishop  to  take  his  place  at  the  bar 
among  the  accused. 

The  bishop  then  descended.  With  the  gospels  in 
one  hand  and  a  cross  in  the  other,  while  a  deacon  pre- 
ceded him  with  a  vessel  of  holy  water,  he  approached 
Hugues  and  said  :  "  Dost  thou  swear  on  these  holy 


194  GRAND  MONT. 

books  that  thou  art  innocent  of  one  and  all  of  the  sins 
that  have  been  enumerated  in  thy  hearing  ?  Dost  thou 
call  upon  God  to  damn  thy  soul,  the  devil  to  take  thee 
to  the  lowest  hell,  and  thy  body  to  be  burned  in  the 
fires  of  the  bottomless  pit  if  what  thou  sayest  is  false  ? " 
Then,  waiting  a  moment  before  he  allowed  Hugues  to 
swear,  he  began  a  discourse  on  the  wickedness  of  per- 
jury, and  likened  the  perjurer  to  one  worse  than  Judas, 
a  veritable  fiend  in  human  form,  to  whom  the  sacred 
body  of  Christ  was  nothing,  and  for  whose  soul  the 
devils  were  waiting  to  drag  it  into  the  lake  of  brimstone. 
He  finished,  thinking  that  he  might  be  able  to  frighten 
Hugues  from  taking  the  oath.  Then  he  asked,  "Wilt 
thou  swear  to  this  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  Hugues,  dipping  his 
hand  in  the  holy  water  and  making  the  sign  of  the 
cross. 

"  If  thou  art  false,  even  though  thou  dost  escape  the 
present  moment,  remember  thou  art  damned,"  cried  the 
bishop,  still  holding  back  the  gospels. 

"  I  am  willing  to  be  lost  if  I  speak  what  is  not  true  in 
every  particular,"  answered  Hugues. 

There  was  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  allow  him  to 
swear,  which  he  did.  Reverently  placing  his  right  hand 
on  the  book  and  his  left  on  the  cross,  he  repeated  the 
sacred  formula  and  crossed  himself.  The  bishop  next 
went  to  the  prior  and  monks,  but  was  offering  the  books 
without  putting  the  same  formula  to  them  when  Solignac 
demanded  that  all  the  accused  should  be  treated  alike 
until  one  of  them  was  proven  guilty.  The  other 
judges  all  assented  to  this,  which  seemed  so  openly  fair 
to  all.  So  the  bishop  had  to  repeat  the  same  words  to 
the  prior,  who  protested  in  vain,  and  said  that  his  rank 
and  position  lifted  him  above  such  things.  But  Solig- 
nac said  :  "  Hugues  has  a  higher  rank  than  you,  and  you 


IN  THE   CATHEDRAL   OF   ST.    MARTIAL.        19$ 

were  willing  to  see  him  submit  to  that  oath.  Now  take 
it  if  you  dare  !  Hugues  has  the  right  to  call  for  a  ju- 
dicial combat — and  who  is  there  that  would  like  to  stand 
before  his  lance — and  yet  he  has  humbled  himself  to 
come  here  and  swear  as  a  common  monk  or  priest. 
Therefore,  vaunt  not  yourself,  but  swear." 

The  prior  mumbled  something.  The  bishop  said  that 
he  had  sworn,  and  passed  on  to  the  other  two,  who  did 
not  hesitate  to  swear  by  all  that  was  sacred  that  they 
were  not  only  wholly  innocent,  but  that  they  would  there 
tell  the  whole  truth. 

The  prior  continued  to  interrupt  and  protest,  and  the 
confusion  was  so  great  that  the  Lord  of  Solignac,  who 
was  the  general  attorney  for  Hugues,  gave  consent  to 
withdraw  the  accusation  temporarily  upon  the  consent 
of  the  judges  that  he  should  be  called  to  the  bar  when- 
ever the  Lord  of  Solignac  thought  it  necessary  to  ac- 
complish the  ends  of  justice.  With  this  indictment 
hanging  over  him  the  prior  subsided  thoroughly  fright- 
ened. The  solemn  oath  that  the  bishop  had  gotten  up 
only  for  Hugues  had  been  administered  to  him,  and  he 
was  determined  to  say  nothing  that  could  be  in  any  way 
construed  by  Solignac  as  false,  for  he  greatly  feared 
condemnation,  and,  as  he  saw  the  Vicomte  de  Limoges 
and  the  Lord  of  Aixe  had  seats  on  the  judges'  bench, 
he  knew  that  his  loaded  dice  were  not  to  be  played, 
and  that  cold,  impartial  justice  would  be  meted  out. 
The  poor  man,  who  had  considerable  conscience  after 
all,  was  torn  by  a  thousand  doubts.  He  knew  that  he 
had  in  a  measure  perjured  himself.  He  was  wild  with 
fears  within  and  foes  without. 

The  whole  morning  had  been  taken  up  with  the  mass, 
the  opening  speech  of  the  bishop,  and  the  administer- 
ing of  the  oaths,  and  after  the  oaths  were  administered 
there  was  another  short  mass.  It  was  then  time  to  ad- 


196  GRANDMONT. 

journ  for  the  noonday  meal.  The  accused  were  to  be 
kept  within  the  cathedral,  guarded  by  the  vassals  of  the 
two  lay  judges  and  by  some  of  the  bishop's  minions. 
The  prior  asked  leave  to  go  out,  and  was  intrusted  to 
some  of  his  brother  Benedictines  ;  but  he  had  no  appe- 
tite for  dinner,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to 
go  to  the  shrine  of  Ste.  Valerie  and  pray  alone.  The 
poor  fellow  was  trembling  under  the  weight  of  his  ac- 
cusing conscience,  his  perjury,  and  the  dread  of  what 
might  be  unearthed  at  the  trial. 

A  hundred  times  he  wished  that  he  had  acted  justly 
by  Hugues,  and  the  terrible  oath  he  had  sworn  and 
the  calm,  serene  face  of  Hugues  which  he  had  seen 
in  the  morning  had  made  him  the  more  sure  of  his  sin. 
How  should  he  escape  ?  What  should  he  do  ?  In  a  be- 
wilderment of  accusing  thoughts  and  self-condemnations 
he  knelt  on  the  stones  where  Ste.  Valerie,  that  early 
saint,  had  suffered  her  head  to  be  cut  off  rather  than 
commit  a  crime.  The  shrine  was  just  above  the  Vienne, 
which  was  rolling  below,  swollen  much  above  its  normal 
size  by  the  recent  rains.  As  he  looked  down  upon  those 
cold,  sullen  waves,  they  seemed  to  offer  a  hiding  place 
from  the  world  of  accusations  and  sorrows.  It  took  but 
a  moment  for  him  to  decide.  He  rose  from  his  knees, 
and  with  the  crucifix  bound  to  his  lips  plunged  into  the 
rapid  current. 

No  one  saw  the  mad  act  but  the  Eye  that  never  slum- 
bers ;  no  one  recorded  the  deed  but  the  recording 
angel ;  no  one  called  him  back ;  but  the  burning  con- 
science within  made  the  cold  waters  warm.  Not  a  cry 
escaped  his  lips.  Down  he  went,  caught  now  in  the 
rapids,  hurled  hither  and  thither  against  rocks  and 
stones.  The  hated  life  was  extinct,  but  the  corpse  was 
tossed  and  whirled  on  and  on  for  miles  and  then  cast 
up  on  the  shore. 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  197 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    ORDEAL    OF  THE    CROSSES. 

THE  bells  of  the  cathedral  sounded  out  the  call  for  the 
gathering,  and  soon  the  streaming  multitude  was  jost- 
ling back  to  the  place  of  trial.  Again  the  court  opened  with 
a  short  religious  service.  The  scrutinizing  eye  of  Solig- 
nac  discerned  the  vacant  seat  of  the  prior,  and  asked  that 
he  be  brought  up  as  the  first  witness.  The  crier  called 
for  the  prior,  but  in  vain.  The  Benedictines  could  give  no 
information,  but  assured  the  court  that  he  would  be 
brought  back  later.  There  was  indeed  great  anxiety 
among  them  for  his  return.  Searches  were  ordered  and 
inquiries  made,  but  no  one  could  give  the  least  idea  of 
his  whereabouts.  The  last  seen  of  him  was  when  he  was 
praying  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Ste.  Valerie  on  the 
bank  of  the  Vienne,  but  the  awful  truth  never  once 
dawned  upon  them.  The  bishop  said  that,  as  the  testi- 
mony of  the  prior  could  be  accepted  at  any  point,  it  would 
be  a  saving  of  time  and  patience  to  hear  the  testimony 
of  Hugues  first  and  then  the  others. 

Solignac  said  that  it  was  only  right  to  have  the  accusers 
of  Hugues  come  forward  and  make  their  accusations 
and  swear  to  them,  and  then  let  the  accused  be  called 
up  and  defend  himself.  The  other  judges  all  agreed  to 
the  same  thing;  so  Alexandres  and  Julius  were  brought 
to  the  stand  to  testify.  The  bishop  conducted  the 
examination,  and  began  by  asking  them  how  many  times 
a  day  they  prayed,  how  often  they  fasted,  what  penance 
they  performed.  To  all  these  the  two  responded  in  a  way 
to  impress  the  judges  that  they  were  the  most  exemplary 


198  GRANDMONT. 

monks  in  the  world.  Then  he  asked  how  they  came  to 
see  Hugues,  and  they  said  they  were  on  a  mission  of 
mercy  which  led  them  through  certain  woods,  when  sud- 
denly they  were  startled  by  hearing  cries  of  pain  and 
agony.  They  hastened  near  the  spot,  and  saw  Hugues  in 
the  act  of  killing  two  men.  They  were  afraid  to  approach, 
as  he  had  all  the  appearance  of  one  possessed  with  a 
devil.  Even  from  where  they  stood  they  could  smell  the 
sulphur  on  his  breath.  They  saw  him  in  the  act  of  robbing 
their  bodies  when  Robert  de  Nevers  came  up,  and 
Hugues  pursued  him  with  murderous  intentions,  until 
the  Lord  of  Solignac,  coming  up  just  then,  took  Robert 
to  his  castle.  They  also  testified  that  they  remained  at 
the  castle  the  two  intervening  nights  between  the  cap- 
ture and  the  combat,  and  had  heard  strange  noises  and 
smelled  sulphur,  caused  by  the  approach  of  the  devil, 
with  whom  they  were  sure  Hugues  was  conversing ;  and 
they  declared  that  the  devil  paralyzed  his  adversary  and 
made  him  an  easy  prey  to  Hugues. 

Then  the  bishop  asked  about  the  hundred  sous.  Had 
they  been  to  the  monastery  of  Grandmont?  Had  they 
asked  for  the  money  ?  They  swore  most  solemnly  that 
they  had  done  no  such  things.  "  Here  are  two  witnesses 
that  have  testified,  and  the  one  corroborates  the  other  in 
every  particular.  The  facts  seem  very  plain  "  said  the 
bishop.  "  I  do  not  see  any  use  of  questioning  Hugues, 
unless  it  is  to  urge  him  to  confess.  Two  witnesses  are 
stronger  than  one,  and  to  make  him  perjure  himself 
would  be  to  add  sin  to  sin,  '  for  in  the  mouth  of  two 
or  three  witnesses  shall  every  word  be  established.'  I 
move  therefore  that  the  trial  be  closed  and  that  judg- 
ment be  pronounced  according  to  the  testimony  against 
Hugues."  And  assuming  a  horrified  attitude,  he  turned 
quickly  toward  Hugues  and  said,  "  God  have  mercy  on 
thy  soul,  steeped  in  every  crime.  I  therefore  pronounce — " 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  199 

"Hold,  thou  worse  than  Haman,"  cried  Solignac. 
"  Thou  shall  be  hung  upon  thine  own  gallows." 

"  What  meanest  thou  by  daring  to  disturb  the  judge  in 
the  most  solemn  act  of  giving  sentence  ?  "  cried  the  bishop, 
trembling  with  rage  and  lifting  his  pastoral  crook. 

"  Thou  most  unjust  and  wicked  judge,"  cried  Solig- 
nac, "  to  presume  to  pronounce  sentence  when  thou 
hast  only  heard  one  side,  and  that  of  those  whom  thine 
own  letters  shall  prove  to  be  perjurers." 

"Peace,  peace,"  cried  the  vicomte."  We  have  come 
here  to  sit  at  an  orderly  trial,  and  it  must  proceed.  The 
bishop  was  too  hasty.  He  must  wait  until  all  are  heard 
and  the  consent  of  the  whole  bench  of  judges  is  given 
before  he  pronounces  judgment." 

The  bishop,  who  had  thought  that  he  would  be  able 
to  cut  off  further  testimony  and  condemn  Hugues  on 
the  plea  that  two  witnesses  could  not  be  overthrown  by 
one,  and  also  by  the  seemingly  merciful  act  of  not  being 
a  party  to  aid  a  man  in  committing  perjury,  attempted 
to  pronounce  sentence.  If  he  had  once  given  sentence, 
the  act  would  have  gone  before  the  world  as  a  condemna- 
tion, whether  Hugues  was  rescued  by  force  or  not,  and 
that  was  just  what  the  bishop  sought  to  do.  Now  that  he 
was  checked,  he  called  upon  the  vicomte  to  direct  mat- 
ters, saying  that  he  would  not  assist  a  man  to  perjure 
himself,  for  he  thought  they  would  call  on  Hugues,  who 
would  contradict  the  matter  entirely.  But  Solignac  said, 
"  My  lord,  I  would  ask  that  the  honored  Abbot  of  Solig- 
nac be  heard." 

The  venerable  abbot  was  not  asked  to  come  on  the 
stand  as  a  common  witness,  but  when  questioned  said  : 
"  The  two  monks,  Alexandres  and  Julius,  are  monks  of 
my  order  at  Solignac.  They  had  not  been  permitted  to 
leave  the  monastery  on  the  day  that  Robert's  vassals 
were  found  dead.  They  were  only  permitted  to  spend 


200  GRANDMONT. 

the  day  of  the  judicial  trial  at  the  castle  with  a  number 
of  the  monks,  and  I  had  unwittingly  sent  them  on  a 
message  to  the  monastery  by  signing  a  letter  without 
reading  it,  which,  as  I  have  since  learned  was  an  order 
for  the  monks  to  go  to  Grandmont  for  the  money.  I 
regret  that  action,  but  it  was  craftily  done  by  one  Jaco, 
who  is  off  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  Now  the  prior  has 
confessed  that  he  acted  against  his  better  judgment,  but 
is  sorry  for  it." 

"  Have  you  ever  received  a  letter  from  the  Bishop  of 
Limoges  on  the  subject  ? "  asked  Solignac. 

"  I  have,"  said  the  abbot. 

"  Will  you  produce  it  if  the  judges  demand  ?  " 

The  bishop  became  livid,  and  said  that  what  he  had 
sent  as  a  pastoral  letter  was  a  secret,  and  no  one  had  a 
right  to  enter  into  those  matters.  He  forbade  the  abbot, 
under  pain  of  excommunication,  to  produce  that  letter. 

The  Vicomte  de  Limoges  said  :  "  If  the  letter  be 
simply  a  pastoral  letter,  it  is  not  to  be  produced ;  but  if  it 
in  any  way  pertains  to  the  matter  before  the  court,  it 
is  no  more  than  right  that  the  letter  should  be  read  by 
the  abbot  before  all,  lest,"  he  sharply  observed,  "the 
matter  be  carried  before  a  court  where  the  bishop  him- 
self will  be  among  the  accused,  and  we  be  witnesses 
against  him." 

"  I  have  written  nothing  evil,  God  knows,"  said  the 
bishop,  "  and  I  withdraw  my  prohibition  from  the  abbot. 
He  can  read  it  if  he  likes." 

"  He  has  no  choice.  I  will  read  it  myself  before  all," 
cried  the  vicomte,  and,  going  over  to  the  abbot,  re- 
ceived the  first  letter  that  the  bishop  wrote  after  his  in- 
terview with  Solignac,  when  he  dined  at  the  palace. 

The  letter,  as  the  reader  already  knows,  was  a  warn- 
ing to  the  Benedictines  that  Lord  Solignac  knew  how 
his  name  had  been  forged,  and  that  Alexandres  and 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  2OI 

Julius  had  received  back  the  money  on  that  forged  de- 
mand. The  bishop  asked  to  see  that  letter.  (At  the 
first  mention  of  the  letter  he  had  sent  a  messenger  over 
to  his  palace  ordering  his  clerk,  who  at  his  request 
wrote  the  letter,  to  go  to  Bordeaux  without  a  moment's 
delay  and  remain  until  sent  for.)  When  he  looked  at 
the  letter,  he  said  "  That  is  a  forgery,"  and  ordered  all 
the  clerks  in  the  palace  brought  knowing  well  that  the 
one  who  wrote  it  was  not  there.  They  all  were  right 
in  swearing  that  they  were  not  the  writers,  yet  there 
was  the  bishop's  seal  and  signature.  So,  although  the 
bishop's  action  in  prohibiting  the  letter  to  be  given  as 
testimony  had  been  against  him  and  everbody  believed 
him  guilty,  still  he  was  able  to  avail  himself  of  the  ab- 
sence of  the  clerk  to  make  sure  that  there  was  no  positive 
proof  against  him.  Nevertheless  he  was  effectually  sub- 
dued, and  his  influence  was  lessened  for  the  rest  of  the 
trial. 

Solignac  then  asked  the  abbot  why  he  had  not  im- 
mediately ordered  the  money  restored.  The  abbot 
answered  straightforwardly  that  he  had  not  had  his  at- 
tention called  to  the  letter  until  Lord  Solignac's  visit 
three  days  before  the  trial,  and  that  no  one  had  been 
allowed  to  leave  the  monastery  since  except  those  who 
attended  the  trial  at  Limoges. 

"  Then  you  affirm  that  the  letter  in  my  name  was  a 
forgery  committed  by  Jaco  ?  "  asked  Solignac. 

"  I  do,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  you  declare  that  Alexandres  and  Julius  did  go 
after  and  obtained  the  money  ?"  he  continued. 

"  I  do,"  answered  the  abbot. 

Solignac  then  came  forward  and  asked  the  judge  not 

to  consider  the  slightest  imputation  against  the  character 

of  the  abbot,  whom  he  highly  respected  and  honored, 

and  said  that  he  was  convinced  that  the  acts  of  certain 

13 


202  GRANDMONT. 

of  the  monks  were  unknown  to  him.  All  of  the  judges, 
without  exception,  agreed  with  the  lord,  and  the  abbot 
bowed  his  acknowledgment. 

Now  Hugues  was  called  upon  to  testify.  The  bishop 
said,  "Beware  of  perjury."  "No,"  retorted  Solignac, 
"he  will  not  follow  thy  example."  A  fierce  and  de- 
fiant glance  at  the  lord  was  all  that  the  bishop  deigned 
to  give.  In  a  clear  voice  the  Lord  of  Chalus  began  to 
relate  the  whole  story  as  he  had  repeated  it  before. 
Nothing  was  omitted.  The  attempt  to  assassinate  and 
all  was  given  clearly,  but  in  a  simple  way.  When  he 
was  asked  what  ought  to  be  done  to  the  Benedictines,  his 
answer  was,  "  Convert  them." 

Lord  Solignac  now  came  forward  and  testified  as  to 
the  trial  by  judicial  combat  and  the  bravery  of  his 
client  and  the  cowardice  of  Robert  de  Nevers,  who  had 
sought  to  take  every  unfair  advantage,  and  that  the 
strokes  of  Hugues  were  simply  to  disarm  his  adversary. 
All  this  and  the  gift  of  the  money  was  stated  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  court. 

The  bishop,  seeing  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  declared 
himself  delighted  and  convinced  of  the  innocence  of 
Hugues,  whom  he  said  he  always  accounted  a  most 
holy  and  excellent  man,  deserving  the  respect  and  honor 
of  all  the  Church.  There  was  only  one  thing  on  which 
he  was  not  satisfied,  and  he  hoped  that  for  the  welfare 
of  his  most  excellent  order,  as  well  as  for  the  good  of 
the  Church,  the  charge  of  his  being  in  league  with  the 
devil  would  yet  be  cleared  up.  The  shrewd  bishop 
thought  that  here  was  a  "  terra  incognita,"  in  which 
no  proof  could  be  brought  to  the  contrary. 

Before  Hugues  came  under  the  influence  of  Etienne 
he  had  performed  many  wonderful  feats  of  valor,  going 
out  single-handed  and  capturing  a  band  of  robbers  him- 
self, entering  into  lists  and  coming  off  victor  always,  and 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  203 

sometimes  under  the  most  peculiar  circumstances ;  and 
when  asked  how  he  was  able  to  do  it,  he  used  to  say  in  a 
joke  that  "  the  devil  helped  him."  In  this  way  the  story 
was  started  of  his  being  in  league  with  the  evil  one.  So 
the  bishop  asked  him  "  if  ever  in  his  life  he  had  con- 
fessed that  the  devil  helped  him."  "  Yes,"  said  Hugues, 
"  before  I  came  under  the  influence  of  Etienne,  but 
never  since."  He  was  then  asked  "if  it  were  true  that 
the  devil  helped  him."  He  said,  "No;  he  had  never 
prayed  to  the  devil,  but  was  constantly  praying  to  God 
to  deliver  him  from  the  power  of  the  devil."  The 
bishop  continued,  "  How  is  it,  then,  my  son,  that  thou 
hast  been  able  to  meet  and  overcome  so  many  ?  "  For 
in  the  recent  attacks  he  was  outnumbered  three  to  one. 
He  replied,  "  I  am  armed  with  right  and  my  cause  is 
just,  and  God  strengthens  my  hands." 

The  bishop  then  recounted  the  affair  of  the  morning 
and  asked  to  have  the  monks  brought  in  to  testify.  So- 
lignac  consented  on  condition  that  they  should  be  given 
back  to  his  custody  after  the  testimony  had  been  taken. 
The  bishop  claimed  that  the  court  there  assembled 
should  try  them,  and  to  this  the  associate  judges  agreed. 
So,  against  Lord  Solignac's  will,  they  were  brought  into 
court.  There  were  ten  monks  (the  one  who  had  run 
away  had  come  back  to  Limoges,  and  with  the  other  nine 
made  the  full  number).  They  all  began  to  testify  against 
Hugues  in  the  most  severe  way,  telling  of  his  violence 
and  of  his  being  possessed  of  the  deVtl.  They  feared 
no  one  but  the  devil.  It  began  now  to  look  as  if  this 
testimony  would  turn  the  tide  against  Hugues.  Leo  was 
brought  forward  as  a  witness,  and  declared  exactly  how 
the  affair  of  the  morning  took  place.  But  what  seemed 
incredible  was  that  seven,  and  altogether  ten,  monks 
should  be  were  driven  about  by  Hugues  as  a  herd  of 
sheep.  The  monks  attributed  this  to  the  help  of  the  devil, 


204  GRANDMONT. 

and  the  two  ecclesiastics  agreed  with  the  bishop  that 
they  were  unable  to  decide  conscientiously  otherwise. 
On  Leo's  being  questioned  further,  he  said  that  if  long- 
continued  prayers,  if  deeds  to  mortify  the  body,  if  unceas- 
ing care  for  others  and  continual  kindness  and  amiability 
were  signs  of  being  in  league  with  the  devil,  then  Hugues 
might  be  in  that  case;  but  that  all  the  monks  of  the 
monastery  of  Grandmont  considered  Hugues  as  the 
most  devout  and  holy  of  all  the  brothers  after  Etienne. 
"  That  may  be,"  said  the  bishop,  sagely  shaking  his 
head.  "  Do  we  not  read  that  the  devil  himself  often 
appears  as  an  angel  of  light  ?  " 

Solignac  was  sore  perplexed  what  to  do.  The  lay 
judges  also  were  nonplussed,  for  they  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  of  the  devil  or  not.  The  ecclesiastical 
authorities  claimed  to  be  the  sole  judges  in  such  mat- 
ters, and  they  were  ready  to  pronounce  against  Hugues 
on  this  subject.  Hugues  simply  protested  against  all  of 
this  and  was  silent.  Solignac  now  wished  to  call  the  prior 
to  give  some  evidence,  but  no  word  had  been  brought  in 
concerning  him.  Accordingly  Solignac  began  to  openly 
accuse  the  Benedictines  of  cheating  and  of  hiding  him 
away  or  allowing  him  to  escape,  but  they  denied  and 
swore  that  they  knew  nothing  about  him  further  than 
that  he  had  asked  permission  to  pray  at  the  shrine  of 
Ste.  Valerie,  and  they  had  allowed  him.  Since  then  he 
had  not  been  seen.  Solignac  declared  that,  as  an  im- 
portant witness  had  been  spirited  away,  Hugues  must  be 
vindicated.  The  others  said  no.  The  testimony  of 
Hugues  and  the  monks  who  had  made  the  attack  in  the 
morning  was  naturally  directly  opposite.  Because  of  the 
number  so  overwhelming  on  one  side  the  judges  did  not 
see  how  they  could  decide  any  other  way,  and,  though 
Leo's  bleeding  arm  was  shown  and  the  knife  with  which 
the  act  was  done,  bearing  the  Benedictine  brand  upon 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  205 

it,  was  brought  forward,  it  seemed  impossible  to  the 
judges  that  ten  monks,  with  the  most  solemn  oaths  upon 
their  lips,  could  be  false.  All  this  was  impressively 
stated  by  the  bishop,  who  declared  that  he  was  willing 
that  Hugues  should  have  every  chance  to  prove  his 
innocence.  He  said  this  because  he  felt  sure  that  he 
could  find  out  some  way  to  condemn  his  enemy. 

Solignac  had  to  agree  that  there  was  rank  perjury 
somewhere,  and  that  either  the  ten  monks  were  false  or 
else  Hugues  and  Leo  had  forsworn  themselves.  There 
was  no  charge  against  Leo,  and,  as  he  had  only  stated 
what  he  saw  and  believed,  all  agreed  that  nothing  could 
be  alleged  against  him.  Again  Solignac  took  the  stand 
and  swore  how  he  had  met  the  band,  but  the  question 
how  one  unarmed  man,  without  the  devil's  help,  could 
drive  nine  men  like  sheep  with  only  two  bound  was  more 
than  even  he  could  answer.  He  now  proposed  a  question 
to  the  bishop  as  follows :  "  As  you,  sir,  by  your  life  and 
studies  are  more  familiar  with  divine  things  than  I, 
please  tell  me  if  the  angels  or  saints  do  not  help  those 
whom  they  love  ?  Did  not  the  prophet  of  old  strike  the 
whole  army  of  the  Syrians  blind  ?  And  did  not  the 
weakling  David  slay  the  giant  Goliath  ?  Why,  then, 
should  it  be  thought  impossible  for  one  man  to  overcome 
all  of  these  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  replied  the  bishop,  "  the  Syrians  were  all 
uncircumcised,  the  giant  was  a  Philistine;  but  these 
monks  are  all  good  Christians." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  other  way  but  to  condemn 
Hugues.  Finally,  as  a  last  resort,  to  save  his  client,  whom 
he  knew  to  be  innocent,  Solignac  asked  that  the  tests 
might  be  applied  which  were  usually  reserved  for  eccle- 
siastics. The  bishop  agreed  to  this,  and  ordered  that 
the  irons  should  be  heated.  The  three  days'  delay  was 
not  required,  as  it  had  been  given  in  preparation  for  the 


206  GRANDMONT. 

trial.  In  a  few  moments,  as  soon  as  the  swords  could 
be  heated,  they  were  brought  in.  Nine  swords  red  hot 
were  fastened  into  an  iron  frame,  and  Hugues  was 
ordered  to  walk  over  them  with  his  naked  feet,  so  that 
he  should  touch  each  one  with  his  feet. 

"  Hold,"  cried  Solignac ;  "  the  Benedictines  have  made 
the  accusation,  and  it  is  no  more  than  just  that  to  prove 
their  tale  they  should  be  willing  to  make  a  trial  of  their 
word.  If  they  escape  uninjured,  I  will  not  hesitate  to  ask 
Hugues  to  make  the  same  trial. 

"No,"  responded  the  bishop  ;  "he  is  accused  and  he 
must  make  the  trial." 

The  judges  divided,  the  ecclesiastics  saying  that  the 
accused  must  go  first  and  the  lay  judges  holding  that  it 
was  the  duty  of  those  who  made  the  accusation  to  pass 
first.  Meanwhile  the  bishop,  seeing  that  the  accusers 
would  be  obliged  to  undergo  the  same  treatment  as 
Hugues,  was  alarmed.  He  thought  that,  as  Hugues  was 
greatly  exhausted  by  his  sickness,  he  might  excuse  him 
to  save  his  friends,  and  said,  "  There  is  another  test 
which,  perhaps,  is  better  than  this ;  it  is  the  trial  of  the 
cross."  This  consisted  in  having  both  the  accused  and 
the  accusers  fastened  to  a  cross,  the  hands  bound  to  the 
crosspiece  and  the  feet  on  the  upright,  and  letting  them 
hang  in  that  way  until  one  or  the  other  yielded  to 
fatigue.  All  of  the  judges  assented  to  the  substitution 
of  this  mode  of  trial.  Two  crosses  were  ordered,  one 
for  a  Benedictine  and  one  for  Hugues. 

"No,"  said  Solignac;  "all  the  accusers  of  Hugues 
must  stand  the  same  test  as  they  would  make  him  suffer." 
All  the  judges,  excepting  the  bishop,  agreed  to  this. 
That  decision  made  a  great  uproar  among  the  Benedic- 
tines. Each  one  of  the  seven  was  quick  to  swear  that  he 
was  not  an  accuser,  that  he  had  nothing  against  Hugues, 
that  he  had  only  repeated  what  the  two  who  were  bound 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  207 

and  the  one  who  had  attempted  to  liberate  them  had 
said.  So  one  after  another  was  willing  to  swear  that 
Hugues  was  not  possessed  of  the  devil,  thereby  being 
excused.  Even  Alexandres  and  Julius  were  now  trying 
to  break  down  their  own  testimony,  and  declared  that 
there  was  no  evil  in  Hugues  ;  but  it  was  not  permitted. 
At  last  the  judges  decided  that  the  two  who  were 
bound,  together  with  the  third  who  had  been  so  violent 
in  his  assertion  as  to  Hugues's  guilt,  with  Alexandres 
and  Julius  on  one  side  and  Hugues  on  the  other,  should 
each  be  fastened  to  a  cross  in  the  way  prescribed,  and 
that  the  ones  who  were  the  first  to  succumb  should  be 
declared  guilty.  If  Hugues  yielded  before  the  others,  it 
was  to  be  the  sign  of  his  guilt. 

Hugues,  who  had  been  willing  to  walk  over  the  swords, 
now  came  cheerfully  forward  to  submit  to  this  test.  Six 
crosses  were  laid  upon  the  ground  just  outside  of  the 
cathedral.  Each  one  was  first  sprinkled  with  holy  water, 
then  each  victim  was  placed  with  his  back  upon  the 
cross,  his  hands  stretched  out  to  the  full  length  and 
securely  tied  to  the  crossbeam,  while  his  feet  were 
fastened  with  stout  ropes  to  the  perpendicular  post. 
When  everything  was  ready,  the  judges  came  to  see  if  all 
was  correct.  Solignac  noticed  that,  while  the  cords  of 
the  five  were  of  large  rope,  the  cord  that  bound  Hugues 
was  so  small  that  it  would  cut  his  hands  and  feet  terri- 
bly. As  the  servants  of  the  bishop  had  done  the  bind- 
ing, it  was  seen  that  this  was  a  plain  attempt  to  make  the 
trial  of  Hugues  doubly  hard.  When  attention  was  called 
to  it,  the  excuse  was  given  that  the  large  cord  was  used 
up  before  reaching  Hugues.  "Well,"  said  Solignac, 
"  we  will  procure  more  of  the  same  size  that  Hugues  is 
bound  with,  and  fasten  all  alike."  He  commanded  his 
servants  to  bring  immediately  a  sufficient  quantity  to 
bind  all  with  the  same  kind  of  rope. 


2O8  GRANDMONT. 

On  further  examination  the  crosses  of  the  five  were 
found  to  have  a  raised  ridge  or  shelf  just  where  the  base 
of  the  spine  would  come,  so  that  the  unfortunate  might 
gain  a  little  rest,  while  Hugues's  was  perfectly  plain.  At 
Solignac's  commands,  and  the  assent  of  the  lay  judges, 
all  the  crosses  were  made  alike,  and  the  six  men  were 
bound  by  the  vassals  of  the  Lord  of  Aixe,  as  the  most 
neutral  of  all,  and  no  favors  were  shown.  Just  before 
the  crosses  were  placed  in  position  holy  water  was 
offered  all  to  drink.  Solignac  insisted  on  tasting  every 
cup,  and  found  that  that  given  to  Hugues  had  a  differ- 
ent taste  from  the  rest,  and  threw  it  on  the  ground, 
calling  the  Benedictines  names  that  were  not  very  com- 
plimentary. The  truth  was  that  the  holy  water  given  to 
the  five  had  a  strong  opiate  in  it  that  would  allay  their 
pain  ;  but  Hugues's  cup  contained  only  pure  water,  and 
of  this  he  took  sparingly. 

The  moment  now  arrived,  and  the  bishop  came  forward 
and  prayed  that  they  might  have  strength  given  them  so 
that  the  guilty  would  be  speedily  manifested,  and  that 
the  innocent  might  be  saved  much  suffering.  At  the  ele- 
vation of  the  bishop's  staff  all  six  of  the  crosses  were 
simultaneously  raised  up  and  placed  in  the  holes  al- 
ready prepared  in  the  cathedral  square. 

From  the  very  first  Alexandres  and  Julius  began  to 
scream,  first  uttering  curses  on  the  head  of  Hugues,  and 
then,  when  the  tension  became  strong  and  severe,  they 
yelled  with  rage  and  pain.  This,  in  turn,  gave  way  to 
confession,  and  they  began  to  accuse  themselves.  The 
Benedictines  were  prepared  for  this,  and  at  once  offered 
them  more  of  the  opiate ;  but  Solignac  said,  "  No ; 
nothing  shall  be  given  until  the  judges  decide  who  is 
guilty."  To  this  the  judges  all  agreed,  and  the  Bene- 
dictines tried  to  comfort,  soothe,  and  restrain,  but  all  to 
no  effect.  The  suffering  wretches  begged  to  be  killed 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  2OQ 

outright.  As  the  strain  and  pain  became  greater,  they 
began  to  tell  the  truth  and  swear  that  they  knew 
nothing  against  Hugues,  that  they  had  perjured  them- 
selves. They  declared  Hugues  was  innocent  of  all  they 
had  accused  him.  After  they  had  relieved  their  con- 
sciences about  Hugues  they  began  to  tell  all  that  they 
knew  about  the  bishop,  and  opened  up  some  scenes  that 
made  that  dignitary  turn  purple  with  rage  and  shame, 
for  they  were,  alas,  too  true. 

To  stop  any  more  revelations  he  said  that  he,  for  one, 
was  satisfied  with  the  guilt  of  these  two.  As  they  had 
spoken  false  concerning  him,  he  must  certainly  think 
that  what  they  said  about  Hugues  must  be  untrue  also. 
So  these  two  were  taken  down  to  suffer  the  punishment 
prescribed  by  the  judgment  before  given.  The  other 
three  were  just  coming  out  from  under  the  effects  of  the 
opiate  that  they  had  received,  and,  beginning  to  feel  the 
excruciating  pain,  they  commenced  to  cry  out  for  relief, 
declaring  that  Hugues  was  sending  devils  to  torment 
them.  "  Ah,  no,"  said  Solignac  ;  "  this  is  a  test  of  the 
devil,  and  it  is  the  devil  that  is  in  you  that  makes  you 
suffer.  See  Hugues !  He  has  not  yet  winced,  and  he 
speaks  in  as  natural  a  tone  as  if  he  were  in  his  own  cell 
at  Grandmont."  "O,  it  is  Beelzebub,"  said  they.  "Ah, 
no,"  said  Solignac  ;  "  Beelzebub  does  not  cast  out,  but 
puts  in,  devils." 

Clouds  had  covered  the  heavens  all  day,  but  just  as 
the  sun  was  about  to  sink  behind  the  western  hills  he 
came  out  a  few  moments,  and  the  beams  fell  so  as  to 
strike  the  cross  on  which  Hugues  was  placed,  illuminating 
it,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  halo.  "  See,"  cried  So- 
lignac and  some  others,  "God  is  illumining  his  saint." 
And  the  superstitious  monks,  seeing  the  light  that  sur- 
rounded his  cross,  began  to  weep  and  howl  afresh,  and 
one  and  all  to  confess  that  they  were  wrong  and  that 


210  GRANDMONT. 

they  were  really  seeking  the  life  of  Hugues.  They 
turned  and  with  bitter  tears  asked  the  forgiveness  and 
pardon  of  the  man  they  had  persecuted  and  sought  to 
kill. 

Hugues  was  only  too  ready  to  grant  them  forgiveness, 
and  commended  them  to  God,  telling  the  penitents  to  put 
their  trust  in  him,  to  prepare  their  souls  for  eternity, 
and  with  much  solemn  discourse  urged  on  them  the 
necessity  of  full  repentance,  which  they  humbly  sought. 
Calling  for  the  judges,  they  confessed  all  their  crimes, 
and  asked  to  die  after  they  had  cleared  so  noble  a  saint 
as  Hugues  of  all  blame.  The  judges  were  unanimous 
in  their  decision.  Instantly  all  were  cut  down.  Hugues 
was  at  once  embraced  by  the  bishop,  who  in  agony  and 
tears  kneeled  down  and  asked  his  forgiveness  for  all 
that  he  had  done,  and  declared  that  he  would  not  rise 
until  he  had  been  pardoned  by  Hugues.  Hugues  as- 
sured him  that  he  treasured  no  ill  will  against  him,  but 
after  urging  him  to  direct  his  flock  in  the  paths  of  right- 
eousness and  truth,  as  Etienne  had  prescribed,  he  freely 
forgave  him. 

Now  Hugues  went  before  the  judges  and  asked  to  be 
heard.  Each  one  was  anxious  to  grasp  his  hand  and  re- 
ceive his  blessing,  for  the  shining  of  that  beam  illuminat- 
ing the  cross  had  convinced  nearly  all  that  a  miracle  had 
been  performed,  especially  as  it  had  shone  on  no  other 
cross.  The  immediate  effect  upon  the  three  others,  all 
of  whom  looked  hardier  than  Hugues,  who  was  just  a  bun- 
dle of  hard  muscles,  and  whom  the  strain  had  been  but 
slight,  made  them  think  that  the  saints  had  helped 
him,  and  they  were  ready  now  to  do  him  any  homage 
that  he  might  ask  from  them.  Solignac  was  so  beside  him- 
self with  joy  that  he  wanted  a  "  Te  Deum  "  sung,  and  the 
bishop  ordered  it.  When  Hugues  came  once  more  be- 
fore his  judges,  the  bishop  said,  "  Whatever  you  ask  shall 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  211 

be  granted."  "  Well,"  said  Hugues  humbly,  "  if  you  will 
grant  my  request,  it  is  that  the  lives  of  these  poor 
wretches,  who  have  been  deceived  as  well  as  deceiving 
themselves,  may  be  spared.  They  have  perjured  them- 
selves and  in  their  rage  sought  to  commit  murder  and 
other  crimes.  All  this  is  proof  positive  that  they  are  not 
ready  to  enter  eternity.  I  ask  that  they  be  not  excom- 
municated, but  that  they  be  put  on  the  bread  of  peni- 
tence for  a  year,  and  then  be  received  back  into  their 
respective  places  if  they  have  truly  repented." 

"  I  object  to  the  granting  of  mercy,"  said  the  Lord  of 
Aixe.  "  Before  the  trial  began  we  declared  the  sen- 
tence on  those  who  should  be  proven  guilty.  Had 
Hugues  been  the  guilty  one,  I  am  sure  that  no  one 
would  have  asked  the  same  favor  for  him ;  and  now  that 
these  villains  are  shown  doubly  dyed  in  infamy,  there 
is  the  stronger  reason  that  they  should  be  immediately 
sentenced,  unless  you  wish  to  wait  until  the  morrow,  and 
then  make  the  punishment  all  the  more  public." 

The  Vicomte  de  Limoges  said  that  his  inclinations 
sided  with  the  Lord  of  Aixe,  but  he  wished  to  know  just 
what  Solignac  thought.  This  lord  had  been  silent  since 
the  acquittal  of  Hugues.  Now  he  said  that,  while  justice 
demanded  all  that  the  Lord  of  Aixe  had  said,  yet  he 
would  be  more  happy  if  the  noble  spirit  of  Hugues  were 
taken  as  the  sentiment  of  the  court,  being  the  most  hu- 
mane and  Christian.  He  would  recommend  the  judg- 
ment of  Hugues.  The  bishop  made  a  most  laudatory 
speech  about  Hugues  and  extolled  his  character — "  vin- 
dicated," he  said,  "by  heaven  " — and  declared  that  this 
last  testimony  of  Hugues  was  another  evidence  of  the 
divine  spirit.  "  Let  us  not  fight  against  it,  lest  we  be 
found  righting  against  God."  This  was  finally  accepted 
as  the  decision  of  the  court. 

The  five  culprits,  coming  before  Hugues,  knelt  to  re- 


212  GRANDMONT. 

ceive  his  blessing,  which  he  gave  most  readily,  saying 
some  words  of  comfort  and  strengthening  the  souls  that 
had  been  so  deluded  and  deceived.  They  were  put  in 
the  care  of  their  brother  Benedictines,  who  had  received 
such  a  fright  that  they  regarded  Hugues  no  more  with 
envy,  but  as  a  veritable  saint.  Poor  old  Leo,  lifting  up 
his  bloody  arm,  kept  saying,  "  I  knew  it  would  be  so, 
I  knew  it  would  be  so  ;  for  Etienne  was  praying  all  of 
the  time."  • 

Both  Hugues  and  Leo  wished  to  return  home  that 
night,  but  neither  the  bishop  nor  the  vicomte  would 
hear  of  it.  They  accepted  the  vicompte's  hospitality? 
who  invited  the  bishop  to  unite  with  him  at  the  castle 
in  a  royal  feast  in  honor  of  the  vindication.  The  two 
guests  of  honor  partook  of  none  of  the  grand  viands  that 
were  served  on  the  occasion,  their  hearts  were  too  full 
of  gratitude.  Lord  Cocu,  hearing  of  the  trial,  had  been 
among  the  spectators  in  the  court  room  ;  but  as  soon  as 
Hugues  had  been  vindicated,  seizing  his  hand,  he  said, 
"  I  shall  hasten  to  tell  Etienne,"  and,  mounting  his  horse, 
within  two  hours  he  was  at  the  side  of  the  founder  of  the 
order  at  Grandmont,  rehearsing  all  that  had  taken  place. 

The  good  man,  as  he  listened  to  these  things,  could 
not  refrain  from  saying,  "God  be  thanked!  God  be 
thanked !  "  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  face.  After 
hearing  the  account  he  immediately  ordered  the  bell 
sounded,  and  the  brothers  were  called  together  to  hear 
the  news  and  sing  a  "  Te  Deum "  for  the  rescue  of 
Hugues. 

Lord  Solignac  was  also  invited  to  the  vicomte's  and 
accepted.  While  they  were  at  the  table,  a  loud  rap  was 
heard  at  the  portcullis  of  the  castle.  Inquiries  were 
made  by  the  porter.  It  proved  to  be  some  of  the  vas- 
sals of  the  Lord  of  Aixe,  who  wanted  to  speak  with  their 
master.  He  excused  himself  from  the  table  and  went 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  CROSSES.  213 

out  to  them.  They  told  him  that  they  had  discovered 
the  dead  body  of  a  monk,  and,  as  they  wished  him 
to  see  it,  they  had  brought  it  with  them.  They  had 
found  the  corpse  on  the  banks  of  the  Vienne,  not 
far  from  his  castle.  The  lord  imagined  that  it  must 
be  the  missing  prior ;  so  he  returned  to  the  hall  and 
told  the  company  that  the  body  of  the  prior  had  been 
found. 

The  feast  was  immediately  stopped,  and  sorrow  was 
expressed  by  all.  No  one  was  more  sorrowful  than  the 
Lord  of  Solignac,  who  said  that  he  had  not  wished  to  in- 
criminate the  man,  but  to  frighten  him  into  telling  the 
whole  truth.  It  was  a  sad  procession  that  followed  the 
corpse  over  to  the  cathedral,  where  they  allowed  it  to 
rest,  while  brother  Benedictines  kept  up  a  service  all 
night.  His  death  was  thought  to  be  accidental,  for  had 
it  been  known  that  he  had  committed  suicide  he  would 
have  been  quartered  and  hung  up  in  different  parts  of  the 
city  or  over  its  several  gates,  and  never  been  permitted 
a  Christian  burial.  Many  different  stories  were  told. 
Some  said  he  was  trying  to  run  away,  others  that  he 
was  brutally  murdered,  some  that  he  became  uncon- 
scious and  fell  into  the  water  while  praying  on  the 
banks  of  the  river;  but  the  real  fact  was  never  pub- 
lished, though  the  truth  was  surmised  by  the  Benedic- 
tines themselves. 

The  Abbot  of  Solignac,  assisted  by  the  Bishop  of 
Limoges,  officiated  at  the  funeral  the  next  day.  No  word 
of  eulogy  was  expressed  by  either.  They  only  thought 
to  hurry  the  service  and  commit  the  body  to  the  earth. 
Hugues  and  Leo,  after  the  funeral,  accompanied  by  a 
number  of  Benedictines  (who  now  were  anxious  to  do 
all  that  they  could  for  the  two),  started  for  Grandmont. 
Their  escort  went  with  them  even  to  the  monastery, 
and  with  them  entered  into  the  chapel  to  assist  at  the 


214  GRANDMONT. 

service  which  Etienne  had  prepared  to  welcome  them 
back.  They  even  went  so  far  as  to  go  to  Etienne  him- 
self and  on  bended  knees  beg  his  blessing  and  for- 
giveness, which  the  good  man  gave  with  great  pleasure. 
Then,  after  a  walk  three  times  around  the  cemetery,  the 
Benedictines  returned,  and  a  solemn  vow  was  made 
that  henceforth  Etienne  and  his  monks  should  never  be 
molested.  This  vow  was  carefully  kept,  and  the  Abbot 
of  Solignac  himself  brought  back  the  one  hundred  sous 
to  Etienne,  and  in  a  most  humble  manner  asked  his  par- 
don and  forgiveness.  But  Etienne  said  :  "  Brother,  the 
fault  was  not  thine,  and  thou  art  free.  Come,  let  us 
both  unite  in  a  service  to  heaven,  thanking  God  for  his 
goodness,  and  ask  that  he  will  henceforth  keep  our  or- 
ders from  falling  into  sin."  After  this  service  and  much 
brotherly  conference  they  parted,  bound  together  by 
new  and  strong  ties  of  friendship,  which  lasted  as  long 
as  they  lived.  This  was  the  end  of  the  trial  that  threat- 
ened to  break  up  the  order  of  Grandmont. 


THE  CLOVEN   HOOF.  21$ 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE     CLOVEN       HOOF. 

ABOUT  this  time  there  appeared  in  all  France,  and 
especially  at  Limoges,  that  terrible  scourge  called 
the  "  pest,"  which  was  likened  by  a  chronicler  to  a  fire 
which  burned  all  parts  of  the  body  indifferently.  This 
terrible  disease  attacked  all  classes.  As  nearly  every- 
body had  been  following  their  own  evil  propensities, 
they  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  scourge.  It  is  certain  that 
not  only  bad  morals,  but  the  filth  in  which  most  of 
the  people  lived  aided  in  spreading  this  plague  over 
the  country  with  such  destructive  power.  From  the 
accounts  given  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  anything  much 
more  painful  or  which  could  cause  more  intense  agony. 
The  disease  would  attack  certain  parts  of  the  body, 
perhaps  the  hand,  the  feet,  the  limbs,  or  trunk,  and 
they  would  feel  as  if  literally  burned  in  a  furnace.  The 
afflicted  would  beg  to  have  the  stricken  parts  cut  off, 
and  it  was  currently  reported  that  when  water  was  thrown 
on  them  smoke  would  arise  and  the  suffering  would  be 
intensified.  The  disease  worked  until  a  vital  organ  was 
attacked,  whereupon  death  would  speedily  follow. 

On  every  side  were  heard  the  cries  of  the  burning, 
maddened  patients.  Every  street  resounded  with  groans 
and  agony  day  and  night.  These  screams  of  anguish 
went  up  unceasingly,  and  wherever  the  eye  turned  there 
were  seen  the  writhing  of  the  suffering,  desolation,  and 
death. 

There  was,  perhaps,  never  a  time  when  the  Church  did 
more  for  humanity  in  away  that  appealed  directly  to  the 


2l6  GRANDMONT. 

people  than  on  such  occasions  as  this.  The  disease 
seemed  to  be  more  infectious  than  contagious,  and  the 
attacks  were  more  violent  upon  debauchees  and  those 
persons  who  were  neglected  and  whose  surroundings 
were  deep  in  filth  and  vileness.  Sanitary  principles  were 
unknown,  and  the  results  of  uncleanness,  both  moral 
and  physical,  made  themselves  apparent  when  an  epi- 
demic declared  itself. 

At  that  date  the  study  of  medicine  had  made  very 
little  progress,  and  was  confined  to  blood  letting  and  the 
use  of  a  few  herbs.  The  beneficial  effects  of  the  bath 
were  unknown.  Many  never  took  one;  some  bathed 
only  once  or  twice  a  year  in  the  river  during  the  warm 
weather.  Indeed,  dirt  and  uncleanness  were  the  order 
of  the  day. 

Etienne  had  learned  from  his  stay  in  Rome  the  im- 
portance of  the  bath,  and  had  prescribed  as  a  rule  for 
his  followers  weekly  ablutions.  This  he  considered 
typical  of  spiritual  purity,  and,  as  a  consequence,  the 
monks  of  Grandmont  were  scrupulously  clean.  There- 
fore none  of  the  monks  of  Etienne  were  attacked.  They 
were  now  in  great  demand  everywhere  to  soothe  the  sick 
and  bury  the  dead. 

It  is  strange  to  see  how  many  of  the  old  pagan  cus- 
toms still  clung  to  the  people.  There  were  certain 
springs  that  had  been  resorted  to  from  time  immemorial 
as  possessed  of  healing  virtues.  The  old  Druids  wor- 
shiped around  them.  At  the  advent  of  the  Romans 
they  called  these  fountains  after  their  gods  and  god- 
desses, so  that  we  find  springs  dedicated  to  Hygeia, 
Diana,  Venus,  the  Graces,  etc.  These,  in  turn,  were  for 
the  most  part  called  by  the  names  of  saints  when  the 
country  was  brought  under  the  sway  of  Christianity. 
Some,  however,  were  considered  unholy.  On  Lord 
Cocu's  estate,  not  very  far  from  where  the  castle  stood, 


THE  CLOVEN   HOOF.  217 

was  a  large  monument  or  mound,  one  of  the  many 
tumuli  that  are  found  all  over  the  central  part  of  France 
even  at  the  present  time.  Near  the  foot  of  this  tumulus 
was  a  spring  of  clear,  cold  running  water.  A  vague 
superstition  was  current  concerning  this  spring,  that  it 
issued  from  a  pagan  sepulcher  where  human  sacrifices 
had  been  offered ;  therefore  it  was  impure  and  a  sin  to 
drink  of  the  water.  As  the  tumulus  had  never  to  that 
day  been  opened,  it  was  supposed  that  it  was  the  burial 
place  of  a  certain  chieftain,  whose  name  had  been  as 
long  forgotten  as  his  bones.  There  was  a  tradition 
handed  down,  however,  that  this  chief  was  in  league 
with  the  devil,  and  that  report  started  strange  rumors 
of  ghosts.  Strange  sounds  and  sights  had  been  heard 
and  seen  at  night  by  travelers  who  had  occasion  to  take 
the  road  that  passed  by  this  mound. 

It  happened  that  one  of  the  servants  of  Lord  Cocu, 
stricken  with  this  pest,  went  at  once  to  this  heathen 
place,  as  it  was  called,  and  not  only  bathed,  but  held  his 
feet  in  the  waters  and  drank  copiously  of  them  ;  and, 
wonderful  to  relate,  in  a  few  days  he  had  entirely  re- 
covered from  the  attack  and  was  able  to  attend  to  his 
work. 

The  news  quickly  spread,  and  not  only  the  servants, 
but  all  stricken  with  the  plague  in  the  neighborhood 
came  and  bathed  in  and  drank  the  waters.  Bathing  in 
the  spring  proved  a  preventive,  and  soon  the  fountain 
became  famous. 

This  happened  to  be  one  of  those  springs  forbidden  to 
be  touched  or  drunk  because  of  the  belief  that  it  had 
been  dedicated  to  an  ancient  heathen  god.  Etienne  was 
much  surprised  when  he  heard  from  Lord  Cocu  what 
had  been  done,  and,  as  his  advice  was  asked  on  the  mat- 
ter, thought  it  would  be  best  to  fill  up  the  fountain  so 
that  people  might  not  defile  themselves. 
14 


2l8  GRANDMONT. 

"  But,"  said  Lord  Cocu,  "  I  have  seen  its  healing 
power,  and  I  know  that  it  does  keep  people  from  having 
the  pest." 

Etienne  replied  that  he  would  pray  over  the  matter. 
Meanwhile  the  people  continued  bathing  in  the  waters 
and  were  benefited.  It  will  not  be  necessary  for  us  to 
go  into  an  analysis  of  the  water,  but  it  was  a  fact  that 
the  persons  who  bathed  in  it  were  kept  from  the  disease. 
As  other  water  increased  the  suffering,  it  doubtless  con- 
tained mineral  properties.  What  was  important  at  that 
time  was  the  uncertainty  as  to  the  source  of  the  healing 
power — whether  due  to  saints  or  the  devil;  for  accord, 
ing  to  their  ideas  one  or  the  other  must  have  the  glory. 

It  was  thought  that  a  crushing  argument  against  the 
divine  authorship  of  the  healing  power  was  that  it  should 
proceed  from  a  heathen  tomb.  The  souls  of  those  buried 
in  the  tumulus  were  represented  to  be  at  that  instant  in 
hell.  Some  even  suggested  that  the  reason  it  cured  was 
because  it  proceeded  from  infernal  depths,  and,  as  the 
disease  was  thought  to  be  the  work  of  the  evil  one,  so 
the  curative  properties  of  this  spring  must  have  some- 
thing devilish  about  them.  But  as  the  water  was  cold, 
again  their  logic  was  baffled,  for  according  to  their  reason- 
ing the  water  ought  to  be  hot.  Another  thing  urged 
against  it  was  that  on  certain  cold  mornings  the  ap- 
pearance of  smoke  was  seen  hanging  over  the  orifice 
where  the  water  issued  from  the  mound.  The  cure 
of  Ambazac  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  devil's  breath 
and  forbade  his  parishioners  going  to  the  spring,  but 
Etienne  was  not  quite  so  bigoted.  He  gave  to  the 
lord  a  wooden  cross  which  had  been  dipped  in  holy 
water.  "  Take  this  cross  to  the  "spring,"  said  Etienne, 
"  cast  it  in,  and  if  it  floats  the  water  is  good ;  if  it  sinks, 
it  is  evil." 

Cocu,  well  content  with  the  test,  called  together  a 


THE   CLOVEN   HOOF.  2 19 

number  of  witnesses.     Etienne  sent  Hugues  to  the  scene 
to  watch  the  proceedings  and  to  report  to  him. 

The  cross  was  placed  in  the  bubbling  spring  and 
immediately  it  went  dancing  off.  The  people  shouted 
with  delight,  as  they  now  thought  that  the  floating 
cross  was  a  sure  sign  that  the  water  was  good,  and 
that  they  might  use  it  for  drinking  and  bathing.  The 
cure  rescinded  his  edict,  but  the  spring  was  thought  to 
be  of  too  doubtful  a  source  to  receive  the  name  of  a 
saint;  so  nothing  was  said  about  it  oneway  or  the  other. 
Strange  stories  were  told  about  this  fountain — how  that 
every  night  at  full  moon  imps  and  demons  came  forth, 
who  held  a  carnival  on  the  top  of  the  tumulus,  which 
was  about  thirty  feet  high.  As  the  place  was  carefully 
avoided  and  most  of  the  stories  were  hearsay,  after  the 
test  of  the  cross  they  were  somewhat  disregarded.  An 
old  crone  told  this  tale  to  a  new  servant  at  the  castle  to 
frighten  her.  Let  her  tell  her  own  story : 
,  "  I  was  born  a  vassal  to  the  grandfather  of  the  present 
Lord  Cocu.  When  about  eighteen  I  became  greatly 
enamored  of  a  young  archer  of  the  Lord  of  Jonchiere, 
named  Berton.  Our  trysting  place  was  at  the  foot  of  the 
tumulus,  and  whenever  it  was  possible  for  my  lover  to 
come  I  met  him  there,  as  my  parents  had  already  prom- 
ised me  to  one  of  their  fellow-servants  who  was  bound 
to  Lord  Cocu.  But  night  after  night  I  would  creep  out 
under  the  lofty  pine  that  grew  at  the  foot  of  the  side 
opposite  to  where  rumor  said  was  the  mouth  of  the 
cave.  I  would  await  Berton,  and  many  a  time  he  kissed 
me  and  in  most  loving  words  bade  me  a  fond  good-night, 
and  spoke  of  the  time  when  he  hoped  to  have  me  as  his 
wife.  Everything  was  progressing  most  smoothly  and 
pleasantly.  It  was  just  as  the  moon  was  full  in  late 
autumn  ;  the  rain  had  ceased  at  nightfall,  and  it  was 
clear  and  beautiful.  I  went,  as  I  was  wont,  to  meet 


220  GRANDMONT. 

Berton.  I  heard  his  footsteps  rustling  the  fallen  leaves, 
and  began  to  sing  softly  a  love  ditty  of  welcome.  Just 
as  he  came  in  sight  the  whole  top  of  the  tumulus  seemed 
to  be  alive.  There  was  a  roar,  and  all  the  leaves  seemed 
sweeping  down  its  side  in  the  wake  of  an  enormous 
creature,  clothed  in  black.  It  passed  by  me  like  an 
arrow  and  started  for  Berton,  who  turned  and  ran,  the 
evil  spirit  pursuing  him.  They  seemed  borne  by  the 
wings  of  the  wind.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  I 
ran  to  the  house  as  fast  as  ever  I  could,  and  from  that 
day  to  this  I  have  never  spent  a  moment  after  twilight 
anywhere  near  the  foot  of  the  tumulus,  which  I  firmly  be- 
lieve is  possessed  with  the  devil.  I  never  afterward 
saw  Berton.  Some  said  that  he  was  shortly  after  killed 
in  battle,  but  I  believe  that  he  was  carried  away  by  the 
fiend  that  lived  in  that  mound. " 

Her  story  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  minds  of 
her  credulous  hearers,  and  the  younger  persons  who 
heard  it  resolved  that  henceforth  it  would  be  no  tryst- 
ing  place  for  them. 

In  reality  the  girl's  father  had  hidden  himself  on  the 
high  summit  of  the  mound,  from  whose  top  he  could 
watch  all  that  was  going  on  below  without  being  seen, 
as  the  summit  was  covered  with  small  trees  and  shrubs. 
When  he  saw  his  daughter's  lover  approach,  he  de- 
scended hastily.  The  leaves  being  stirred  up  made  it 
seem  that  there  was  a  multitude  coming,  and  he  chased 
Berton  to  the  border  of  the  castle,  returning  to  find 
his  daughter  in  bed,  frightened  so  terribly  that  for  him 
to  expose  the  truth  would  be  to  diminish  the  force  of 
the  lesson.  So  it  was  never  repeated.  Berton  did  not 
dare  to  come  again  to  the  trysting  place,  and  soon  was 
sent  on  a  warlike  expedition,  so  frequent  at  this  time, 
where  he  met  his  death.  The  girl  was  content  to  marry 
the  suitor  of  her  parents'  choice,  and  so  the  matter 


THE   CLOVEN   HOOF.  221 

ended.  But  never  was  the  fright  forgotten,  and  many 
were  the  weird  stories  told  of  the  mound  and  the  spec- 
ulations made  concerning  it.  The  tradition  runs  thus  : 

A  pagan  chief,  noted  for  his  cruelty  and  hardiness, 
whose  daily  diet  was  human  flesh  and  blood  drunk  from 
the  skull  of  one  of  his  enemies,  built  this  mound  him- 
self, and  one  day,  having  called  his  son,  resigned  his 
kingdom  and  power  to  him,  forbidding  him  to  search 
for  him,  as  he  was  about  to  disappear  from  the  world. 
He  walked  straight  up  to  this  tumulus,  where  a  door 
opened  apparently  of  itself,  through  which  the  chieftain 
entered  and  was  never  seen  thereafter.  No  trace  could 
ever  be  seen  of  the  door,  and  the  sod  grew  all  over  the 
steep  side.  No  one  ever  dared  to  break  the  privacy  of 
the  chief. 

Hugues  heard  all  these  stories  and  was  greatly 
troubled,  for  he  thoroughly  believed  that  the  devil 
bought  certain  people,  who  were  under  his  power,  so  that 
they  could  do  many  strange  and  unexplainable  things. 
He  also  thought  that  certain  injuries  could  be  done  to 
people  through  the  influence  of  the  devil.  For  example, 
when  one  wished  to  destroy  a  field  of  grain  belonging  to 
an  enemy,  it  was  only  necessary  to  get  an  egg  and  have 
certain  incantations  performed  over  it,  then  hide  it  in 
the  field  of  grain,  and  that  would  certainly  bring  upon  it 
disaster.  There  were  many  such  superstitions  that  were 
received  as  Gospel  truth  at  that  time.  Though  Hugues 
gave  credence  to  these  tales,  still,  as  Etienne  had  so 
often  told  him  that  God  was  much  stronger  than  the 
devil,  he  felt  that  he  had  divine  power  on  his  side,  and 
he  never  feared  even  the  devil  himself  as  long  as  he  had 
his  cross  and  staff  with  him. 

He  returned  to  Grandmont  and  repeated  all  that  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  Etienne  was  a  little  inclined,  as 
were  all  of  that  remote  age,  to  be  superstitious,  and  ad- 


222  GRANDMONT. 

vised  that  the  stream  be  avoided,  as  none  of  the  saints 
ought  to  meddle  with  evil  things,  even  though  there 
was  no  apparent  harm. 

"But,"  replied  Hugues,  "it  is  certain  that  the  cross 
floated  and  danced  just  as  well  on  that  water  as  it  does 
on  what  your  holy  hands  have  blessed.  Permit  me,  then, 
to  go  up  there  at  the  next  full  moon  and  watch,  and  if 
devils  or  ghosts  come  I  shall  know  it,  and  we  can  then 
intelligently  advise  the  people." 

"  How  dare  you  face  the  devil  if,  perchance,  you  find 
him  there?  "  asked  Etienne. 

"  He  cannot  harm  me.  I  carry  the  cross  upon  my 
breast,  and  I  have  the  promise,  as  you  have  said  so  often, 
of  the  aid  of  the  holy  angels  if  aught  befalls  me,  so  that 
I  need  fear  no  ill.  He  will  not  touch  me.  I  am  not 
afraid. 

The  simple,  childlike  faith  of  Hugues  pleased  Etienne, 
and,  embracing  him  warmly,  he  said  :  "  Tell  no  one  thy 
mission.  Go,  and  the  Lord  send  his  angels  to  defend 
thee." 

That  night  week  the  moon  was  full,  and  five  vassals 
of  the  neighborhood  had  made  up  their  minds  to  have 
some  fun  with  the  superstitious  people  of  the  region,  who 
had  determined  to  appoint  a  watch  to  see  whether  there 
were  any  appearances  on  top  of  the  mound  or  not.  These 
miscreants  had  each  gotten  a  cow's  hide  with  the  horns 
on,  and  with  these  as  disguises  they  intended  to  dance 
on  the  mound  and  make  so  great  a  hubbub  that  all  the 
neighborhood  would  hear  and  be  frightened. 

The  determination  of  Hugues  was  as  unknown  to  them 
as  theirs  was  to  him. 

At  sunset  on  that  day  Hugues,  with  his  staff  and  cross, 
went  from  Grandmont  to  the  tumulus.  No  one  saw  him, 
as  he  approached  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  castle, 
which  was  situated  at  some  distance  from  the  dangerous 


THE   CLOVEN   HOOF.  223 

and  infected  spot.  He  was  soon  out  of  sight  beneath 
the  branches  of  a  fir  tree  on  the  top.  He  began  to  re- 
peat the  services  of  the  Church  to  himself,  as  he  did  not 
want  to  make  a  noise  that  would  attract  attention.  He 
had  been  very  active  all  day,  and  the  repetition  of  the 
service  was  mechanical  and  the  effect  soothing  to  his 
mind.  The  wind  blew  softly,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
the  former  Lord  of  Chalus  was  fast  asleep,  for  there  was 
no  terror  for  him.  He  dreaded  nothing,  and  was  more 
than  half  inclined  to  believe  that  very  much  of  what  he 
had  heard  was  nonsense  and  fable.  He  slept  soundly, 
hushed  by  the  soft  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  fir  trees. 
There  he  lay,  perfectly  at  ease,  unconscious  of  all  sur- 
roundings, dreading  in  no  way  the  terrible  demon  that 
was  said  to  haunt  those  regions. 

On  the  mountain  side,  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
mound,  the  rascals  who  were  planning  to  give  the  neigh- 
bors a  fright  had  their  rendezvous. 

"  Jacques,  you  look  like  a  veritable  demon  with  the 
black  and  white  hide  of  old  Cornie  on,"  said  Pierre,  as 
he  fastened  the  horns  in  such  a  way  that  they  stood  up- 
right on  his  companion's  head.  "  Now  let  me  fix  the 
tail,  and  you  will  be  ready." 

This  last  necessary  appendage  to  a  well-formed  cow 
was  cunningly  forked,  and  made  by  the  help  of  a  stout 
stick  to  assume  a  right  angle  to  the  body. 

"Fasten  the  skin  well,"  said  Jacques,  "for  I  do  not 
want  it  to  come  off  in  the  midst  of  our  fun." 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  Pierre,  and  with  a  stout  needle  he 
sewed  the  skin  over  the  limbs,  around  the  body,  and 
over  the  shoulders,  fastening  it  around  the  head  se- 
curely. 

"Now  let  me  fasten  Blackie's  hide  on  you,"  said 
Jacques ;  and  Blackie,  whose  skin  was  the  color  of  a 
raven's  wing,  was  brought  up  and  arranged  so  as  to 


224  GRANDMONT. 

cover  Pierre  in  the  same  way  that  his  comrade  Jacques 
had  been  covered.  Another  brindle  hide,  that  had 
been  the  covering  of  a  bullock,  was  made  to  do  the 
same  service  foi  Emile,  and  a  yellow  skin  for  Rougier. 
Gers  was  incased  in  a  white  one.  These  five  fellows, 
thus  arrayed,  pictured  to  themselves  any  amount  of 
fun. 

"  I  say,  Jacques,"  called  out  Gers,  "  Father  Joannes 
will  be  out  with  his  holy  water  to-night." 

"  And  I  assure  you  the  devil  himself  would  run  if  he 
saw  us,"  cried  Rougier. 

At  this  they  all  laughed.  "Jacques,  you  be  the  chief 
fiend,  and  we  will  obey  all  of  your  commands,"  said 
Pierre. 

"All  right,"  exclaimed  the  others. 

"  Let  us  all  walk  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  just  before 
midnight,  and  as  the  bells  of  Grandmont  sound  twelve 
let  us  all  raise  a  shout  that  will  bring  out  the  terrified 
people  of  the  castle  to  be  our  audience,  and  when  we 
see  them  coming  let  us  make  a  lively  dance.  After  that 
I  will  make  an  address,  while  the  rest  of  you  go  dancing 
around,  shaking  your  horns  and  kicking  up  your  heels. 
Be  sure  to  show  the  cloven  hoofs  and  the  long  forked 
tails,"  said  Jacques.  "  They  will  call  up  the  cure,  and 
as  he  comes  with  his  cross  let  us  make  most  horrible 
grimaces  and  rush  down  the  hill  toward  him,  and  snatched 
the  cross  out  of  his  hands.  If  he  resists,  we  will  make 
him  give  it  up,  and  after  planting  it  on  top  of  the 
mound  each  of  us  by  different  ways  will  go  back  to  our 
rendezvous  and  return  in  our  ordinary  clothes  to  hear 
the  tales  about  the  apparitions.  How  will  that  do  for 
apian?" 

"  Ah,  first  class,"  cried  all.  "  Jacques,  you  were  born 
to  be  a  great  general.  No  doubt  some  day  you  will  be  a 
great  man,"  cried  one  and  all. 


THE  CLOVEN   HOOF.  22$ 

"  Ah,"  said  Gers;  "  would  it  not  be  well  to  burn  a  lit- 
tle brimstone,  so  as  to  make  them  think  it  is  the  smell 
of  the  pit  for  sure  ?  " 

"Well  thought  of,"  said  Jacques  ;  "but  where  can  we 
get  any  ? " 

"  I  brought  a  piece  with  me  that  might  do,"  replied 
Gers,  and  he  showed  some  crude  sulphur  in  a  lump  as 
large  as  his  hat. 

"Ah,  that  is  splendid;  but  how  shall  we  get  the  coals? " 
asked  another. 

"I  will  just  run  down  to  Mother  Blondel's,  and  she 
will  be  so  frightened  when  she  sees  me  that  she  will  fly 
screaming  from  the  house  to  the  castle.  When  she  is 
out,  I  will  take  coals  off  the  hearth,"  answered  Rougier. 

"  Try  it,"  said  Jacques. 

The  plan  worked  well.  When  Rougier  appeared  in  the 
door,  the  poor  frightened  woman  rushed  out  through  a 
window  and  ran  toward  the  castle,  screeching  at  the  top 
of  her  voice.  While  she  was  gone,  Rougier  took  the 
coals  and  carried  them  in  an  iron  vessel  to  the  com- 
pany. 

Poor  Mother  Blondel  had  not  the  power  to  scream 
any  more,  but  fell  against  the  door  when  the  portcullis 
was  raised,  and  fainted  dead  away.  It  was  some  time 
before  she  came  to  herself,  and  then  all  she  could  say 
was,  while  continually  crossing  herself,  "  The  devil ! 
the  devil !  I  have  seen  the  devil !  " 

The  servants  thought  she  was  demented  or  something 
strange  had  happened.  Father  Joannes  was  sent  for, 
and  he  came  with  the  cross  and  holy  water,  a  sure  way 
to  exorcise  the  devil.  She  had  gained  a  little  coherency, 
and  described  the  cause  of  her  fright : 

"  As  I  sat  knitting  I  heard  a  sort  of  growl  at  the  door, 
and  as  I  opened  it  to  look  out,  lo!  in  came  the  horns 
and  cloven  foot  of  the  devil  himself.  O,  I  waited  for 


226  GRANDMONT. 

no  more.  Thanks  to  the  saints  and  the  holy  Virgin,  the 
window  was  open,  and  I  leaped  through  and  was  off  in 
a  minute.  I  am  sure  he  is  there  now." 

All  went  with  Father  Joannes  to  the  cottage  to  see  the 
cure  put  out  the  fire  with  holy  water,  exorcise  the  devil, 
and  sprinkle  the  whole  house.  The  cloven  footprints 
in  the  ashes  were  unmistakable,  and  he  tried  to  make 
Mother  Blondel  confess  that  she  had  been  guilty  of 
witchcraft  or  of  some  other  crime,  but  she  stoutly  denied 
everything.  As  all  saw  her  fear,  they  believed  what  she 
said,  and  thought  that  she  would  henceforth  shun  the 
devil  with  all  the  power  she  possessed. 

It  was  agreed  that  Father  Joannes  should  stay  at  the 
castle  that  night ;  and,  as  Mother  Blondel  refused  posi- 
tively to  remain  in  her  house,  she  found  a  place  in  the 
servants'  quarters. 


EXORCISING   THE   DEMONS.  22/ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EXORCISING    THE    DEMONS. 

IT  was  now  near  midnight.  The  five  mischief-makers 
had  started  from  their  mountain  covert  and  were 
silently  wending  their  way  toward  the  mound.  Every 
one  of  them  was  a  little  afraid,  for  each  had  a  misgiving 
that  evil  spirits  did  inhabit  the  mound,  and  not  one  of 
them  would  have  thought  of  going  up  there  alone  at 
midnight,  but  the  company  gave  each  one  courage. 
Jacques's  orders  were  that  they  should  go  up  the  mound 
with  the  least  noise  possible  and  silently  arrange  them- 
selves on  the  castle  side,  to  be  the  more  easily  seen,  and 
at  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell  they  would  put  the  coals 
to  the  sulphur  and  begin  to  shriek  with  all  their  lung 
power. 

This  was  agreed  to  by  all,  and  they  noiselessly  ascended 
the  mound  on  the  opposite  side  from  where  the  innocent 
Hugues  was  wrapt  in  slumber.  He  did  not  hear  them, 
and  they  sat  silently  until  the  bell  at  midnight  began 
to  ring.  It  is  still  the  custom  in  many  portions  of 
France  for  the  bells  to  ring  the  hour  twice.  The 
twelve  strokes  are  given,  and  then  after  a  few  moments 
repeated,  for  fear  that  the  first  time  shall  have  served  only 
to  waken  the  sleepers,  or  lest  a  stroke  was  forgotten  or 
lost. 

At  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell  the  coals,  still  kept 
alive  by  the  care  and  blowing  of  Rougier,  were  thrown 
upon  the  ground,  and  the  huge  lump  of  sulphur  was 
placed  on  top.  A  few  dry  sticks  and  leaves  brought  it 
into  a  glow,  and  the  wind,  which  was  in  a  favorable  di- 


228  GRANDMONT. 

rection,  blew  the  smoke  and  fumes  over  toward  the 
quarters  of  the  vassals  and  the  castle. 

The  smell  of  sulphur  somewhat  aroused  Hugues, 
and  he  was  fully  awakened  by  the  terrible  shriek  that  the 
pseudo-demons  gave.  He  was  calm  and  collected,  al- 
though the  sight  was  truly  startling.  There  were  what 
appeared  to  be  five  imps  of  Satan  dancing  most  wildly, 
and  their  tails,  which  had  the  hair  separated  at  the  tip  by 
a  stick  with  a  crotch,  looked  as  if  they  were  forked,  and 
the  cloven  feet,  with  the  smell  of  burning  sulphur,  made 
him  think  that  he  was  in  a  very  uncanny  spot,  to  say 
the  least. 

He  reasoned  with  himself  that  if  he  were  to  rise  up 
it  might  interrupt  the  performance ;  so,  crossing  himself 
and  grasping  his  staff  strongly,  he  was  ready  for  service 
at  a  moment's  notice,  and  waited  to  see  what  the  fiends 
would  do. 

The  yell  had  the  anticipated  effect.  The  doors  of  the 
vassals'  cottages  were  opened.  The  occupants,  in  their 
night  attire,  came  rushing  out ;  came  also  the  Lord  of 
Cocu,  the  cure",  Joannes,  together  with  all  of  the  inmates 
of  the  castle  except  Mother  Blondel,  who  crept  under 
her  bed  and  did  nothing  but  cross  herself  and  count  her 
beads  and  moan. 

"  O,  the  mound  is  possessed  surely  !  "  exclaimed  Lord 
Cocu. 

"  Smell  the  brimstone !  "  cried  Father  Joannes. 

"  I  see  the  flames  coming  up  straight  from  the  pit !  " 
shouted  a  third. 

"  O,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  cried  the  bride  of  Cocu,  who 
had  come  out  half-dressed. 

Lord  Cocu,  who  was  not  one  of  the  bravest  persons  in 
the  world,  asked  the  cure"  to  go  forth  and  expel  the  devil 
from  his  domain. 

"  No,"  said  the  cure,  "  I  will  not  go  alone  ;  but  do  you 


EXORCISING   THE   DEMONS.  229 

gather  all  in  a  company,  and  I  will  give  each  a  little  holy 
water,  which  the  devil  hates,  and  with  this,  I  bearing  the 
cross  and  a  deacon  bearing  the  pyx,  we  will  approach 
within  a  hundred  paces,  and  I  will  call  upon  the  devils 
to  depart." 

This  was  agreed  to.  All  of  the  company  were  bidden  to 
chant  the  praises  of  St.  Martial  and  to  advance  to  within 
one  hundred  paces  of  the  mound.  The  smoke  now  was 
terrible.  The  creatures  dancing  in  the  smoke  seemed  to 
be  surrounded  or  coming  out  of  it.  Everyone  shrank 
back,  and  the  chant  was  the  most  cracked  and  forced  kind 
of  music  that  ever  was  sung  or  screamed ;  for  there 
was  no  song,  only  a  scream.  Everybody  hung  back, 
looking  for  the  best  place  to  run.  Meanwhile  the  sight 
of  the  dancing  demons  was  more  horrible  than  ever. 

Hugues  had  remained  perfectly  motionless,  watching 
the  strange  antics.  He  had  coolly  noted  every  move- 
ment. He  saw  that  the  cloven  feet  were  only  skin,  for 
he  could  see  the  wooden  shoes,  or  sabots,  underneath. 
He  began  to  think  that  there  was  something  of  a  hoax 
about  it  after  all.  Now  and  then  he  saw  that  the  horns 
wiggled  as  if  they  were  loose,  and  once,  when  Pierre 
frisked  too  near  the  fire,  there  was  a  smell  of  singed  hair 
that  no  one  could  mistake. 

The  time  had  not  yet  arrived  for  him  to  act,  he 
thought.  While  he  waited,  the  dragging  company  under 
the  lead  of  the  venerable  father  advanced,  all  hanging 
back.  The  cure  asked  all  to  go  ahead,  and  he  would 
bring  up  the  rear  with  the  sacred  ensigns.  The  others 
said,  "  No ;  you,  who  have  the  power  over  the  devil, 
should  go  first."  So  they  went  as  if  each  one  ex- 
pected to  have  the  devil  come  rushing  down  and  seize 
him  in  particular  and  bear  him  off  to  the  infernal  re- 
gions. At  last,  though  over  two  hundred  paces  away 
from  the  mound,  the  cure  declared  that  they  were  near 


230  GRANDMONT. 

enough.  As  he  knelt  down  to  pray,  a  loud,  harsh 
voice  from  the  mount  shouted,  "  Stand  up,  Cure  Joan- 
nes ! "  and,  trembling  with  fear,  the  old  man  arose, 
while  the  rest  shrank  back  in  terror  and  began  to 
scream. 

"  Silence  ! "  shouted  the  one  who  seemed  to  be  the 
chief  demon.  All  was  as  still  as  death  in  the  company 
below,  but  Hugues  heard  a  chuckle  that  was  too  earthly 
to  be  mistaken  for  a  Satanic  laugh. 

"  For  twelve  centuries,"  cried  the  speaker  Jacques, 
who  was  the  chief  devil  on  the  occasion,  "  I  have  slept 
in  peace,  awaking  every  month  to  call  my  fellow- 
demons  to  a  conference  on  my  tomb.  Though  the  suns 
of  summer  and  the  winds  and  snows  of  winter  have  come 
and  passed  so  many  hundred  times,  no  one  has  dared 
to  violate  the  sanctity  of  my  tomb,  no  one  has  ventured 
to  disturb  me  or  to  drink  or  bathe  in  the  waters  that 
are  so  sacred  to  me.  Within  the  last  moon  multitudes 
have  come  and  not  only  drunk  but  bathed  in  these 
waters,  which  are  a  part  of  my  life.  I  have  called  my 
brethren  from  the  pit,  and,  as  you  see,  there  is  a  little 
smell  of  brimstone  attached  to  them  ;  it  drops  from  our 
hands."  So  saying,  he  dipped  the  hoof  into  the  liquid 
sulphur  and  let  it  drop  in  great  burning  drops  down  be- 
fore the  assembly,  who  fell  shrieking  back.  "  Do  not 
dare  run  until  I  give  you  leave,"  cried  the  demon,  "or 
I  will  send  a  legion  who  will  hurl  you  headlong  down 
into  the  pit  that  has  its  mouth  at  my  feet." 

"  O  don't,  don't,"  they  all  cried,  the  poor  cure  yelling 
in  agony. 

"  I  demand  reparation,"  continued  the  demon.  "  I 
must  have  the  most  solemn  pledge  that  my  domains 
shall  not  be  violated." 

"  We  all  promise.  We  will  do  anything  if  you  will  only 
let  us  alone,"  cried  the  cure. 


EXORCISING   THE   DEMONS.  231 

"  I  demand  more,"  said  the  heartless  demon.  "  I  must 
have  the  sacerdotal  robes  of  the  cure  to  take  as  a  trophy 
to  the  pit.  I  must  have  his  cross  and  the  pyx  as  the 
pledge  of  your  faithfulness." 

"  O  no,"  gasped  the  priest ;  "  do  not  take  those  holy 
things.  They  can  do  you  no  good." 

"But  I  must  have  them  or  you,"  answered  the  fiend; 
at  which  his  companions  began  to  shout,  "  We  must 
have  him,  we  must  have  him  ;  we'll  roast  his  bones  on 
sulphurous  stones,  and  drink  his  blood  from  the  chalice." 

"  O  ye  saints,  help  me,"  cried  the  cure,  falling  trem- 
blingly on  his  knees. 

Just  now  Hugues,  who  had  seen  all  and  was  sure  that 
it  was  only  some  wicked  men  trying  to  play  their  tricks 
upon  the  people  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  cure,  came 
softly  out  from  behind  the  fir  tree.  When  the  crowd 
saw  him,  they  thought  that  he  was  another  devil.  The 
mischievous  villains,  so  intent  on  watching  the  crowd, 
did  not  notice  him  until  he  had  cracked  the  heads  of 
Gers  and  Rougier  together  with  such  force  that  they 
lost  their  horns  and  lay  prone  on  the  ground.  Jacques 
turned  around  just  in  time  to  receive  the  weight  of  the 
staff,  and  he  fell  over.  Pierre  and  Emile  shouted, "  It  is 
the  devil  in  earnest,"  and  started  on  a  run  for  the 
crowd,  who  ran  screaming  and  yelling  in  all  directions  ; 
but  the  most  frightened  of  all  were  the  rascals  who  had 
gotten  up  the  scare. 

The  cur£  had  fallen,  unable  to  run,  and  was  calling  on 
the  saints  to  help  him.  Hugues  stood  over  the  prostrate 
three  and,  calling  to  the  people  and  the  cure  not  to  be 
afraid,  said  :  "  Come  here.  I  am  a  Christian  and  a 
monk.  I  am  Hugues,  who  has  come  to  see  if  these  are 
really  devils.  I  find  them  only  wicked  men  who  mock 
holy  things.  Come  here  and  see  them." 

It  took  a  great  deal  of  persuasion  to  get  the  people 


232  GRANDMONT. 

and  the  cure  up  the  mound.  After  awhile  Lord 
Cocu  ascended  the  tumulus,  then  the  cure,  and  finally 
the  others.  The  villains  who  perpetrated  the  joke  were 
compelled  to  assume  their  disguise  and  appear  the  next 
day  before  Lord  Cocu.  It  was  not  half  so  funny  ap- 
pearing before  the  angry  lord  the  next  morning  in  their 
cowhide  robes,  with  the  horns  and  tails  displayed  where 
they  would  show  the  most  advantageously. 

No  small  audience  was  assembled  at  the  trial,  either. 
There  were  but  three  to  be  tried — those  who  had  been 
knocked  down  by  Hugues.  The  other  two  had  made 
good  their  escape,  and,  managing  to  free  themselves 
from  their  bovine  coverings,  had  gotten  as  far  away 
from  the  dangerous  place  as  their  limbs  could  take 
them. 

No  witnesses  were  needed  at  the  trial.  All  were 
there,  shouting  and  jeering  at  the  culprits,  who  looked  as 
thoroughly  ashamed  as  it  was  possible  for  men  to  look. 

The  sentence  of  the  lord  was  that  the  three  should  be 
taken  out  to  the  highway  between  the  chateau  and  Am- 
bazac,  and  with  their  cow-skin  garb  be  placed  in 
the  stocks  for  three  days,  while  their  food  was  to  be 
nothing  but  coarse  black  bread  and  water.  The 
worst  part  of  such  a  punishment  was  that  it  gave  free 
license  to  the  rabble  to  abuse  them  as  their  disposition 
directed,  and  the  crowd  was  in  no  humor  after  the  fright 
to  be  very  lenient.  The  amount  of  mud  and  filth  that 
was  heaped  on  them,  to  say  nothing  of  blows,  bodily 
chastisement,  and  opprobrious  names,  made  the  wretches 
very  sorry  that  the  idea  of  a  joke  had  ever  penetrated 
their  brains. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  bear  it,  and  the  cow 
skins  served  as  a  good  protection  from  much  of  the  fury ; 
but  it  was  a  long  time  before  they  were  able  to  settle  down 
in  peace  again.  Indeed,  the  poor  old  woman  who  was 


EXORCISING  THE  DEMONS.  233 

so  badly  frightened  refused  to  return  to  her  cottage 
unless  the  cure  would  sprinkle  the  whole  interior  of  the 
house  again  with  holy  water,  and  at  the  same  time  burn 
incense  and  place  a  statue  of  the  Virgin  over  the  door. 
This  was  done,  but  for  many  nights  the  old  woman  ex- 
pected to  see  the  evil  one  walk  bodily  into  her  house 
and  take  her  away. 

The  effect  of  this  night  on  the  people  divided  the  sen- 
timent. Some,  like  Hugues,  were  convinced  that  there 
was  nothing  the  matter  with  the  water  or  the  mound, 
while  others  were  more  certain  than  ever  that  the  mound 
was  a  veritable  rendezvous  for  demons. 

Hugues,  after  explaining  that  the  mound  was  per- 
fectly innocent,  and  showing  the  cause  of  the  whole 
matter,  and  being  fully  satisfied  that  the  perpetrators  of 
the  joke  would  get  their  just  deserts,  hastened  down  to 
Etienne  to  tell  all  that  had  happened,  and  even  that 
grave  monk  had  to  smile  as  he  heard  the  story  re- 
peated by  the  matter-of-fact  Hugues.  Thanks  were  sol- 
emnly given  for  the  kind  preservation  of  Providence. 
As  all  the  monks  were  assembled  in  the  little  chapel, 
there  was  a  great  noise  heard  outside,  and  a  man,  out  of 
breath  and  bleeding,  rushed  into  the  assembly  and  up 
to  the  altar,  before  which  he  knelt.  Loud  and  angry 
voices  were  heard  at  the  door,  which  was  violently 
opened,  and  before  the  monks  were  able  to  resume 
their  usual  gravity  and  senses  a  voice  called  out  in 
tones  that  at  once  stopped  the  worship,  "  Come  here, 
you  murderer,  you  thief,  you  villain  ! "  and  many  other 
names  that  were  more  forcible  than  elegant. 

The  wretch  who  was  kneeling  at  the  altar  seemed  de- 
termined to  do  anything  else  but  obey.  He  was  shiver- 
ing like  an  aspen  leaf.  The  service  was  quickly  ended, 
the  monks  were  dismissed  to  their  cloisters,  and  Hugues 

was  sent  to  parley  with  the  intruders,  while  Etienne  went 
15 


234  GRANDMONT. 

to  the  side  of  the  trembling  fugitive.  Hugues  did  not  get 
along  well.  The  Count  of  Rochechouart  was  in  no  mood 
to  listen  to  reason.  He  was  determined  to  have  the 
blood  of  the  rascal  who  had  successfully  eluded  him 
until  this  moment.  Only  that  morning  had  he  dis- 
covered his  hiding  place  in  the  mountains,  but  the  man 
had  taken  to  flight  and  ran  as  only  those  can  run  who 
have  their  lives  dependent  upon  their  heels.  The  only 
hope  for  the  wretch  lay  in  the  monastery  of  Etienne,  as 
that  was  protected  by  the  pope  himself  and  was  free  from 
any  authority  excepting  the  papal ;  and  so  it  was  a  sort  of 
city  of  refuge,  where  even  the  guilty  might  come  and  es- 
cape their  pursuers. 


A   REFUGEE.  235 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  REFUGEE. 

THE  whole  trouble  had  arisen  in  the  following  way  : 
Pierre,  a  younger  son  of  the  Lord  of  Dorat,  had 
gone  with  the  crusaders  to  the  Holy  Land.  He  had 
seen  considerable  of  the  hardships  of  that  ineffectual 
fight,  and  had  suffered  from  the  inhospitality  of  the 
Hungarians  and  the  treachery  of  the  Greeks.  He  had 
spent  some  time  in  Asia  Minor,  had  taken  part  in  the 
taking  of  Antioch,  and  had  come  back  with  the  idea 
that  on  account  of  what  he  had  done  he  was  entitled  to 
plenary  indulgence  in  every  kind  of  sin  and  wickedness 
that  his  nature  might  choose  to  commit.  He  had  been 
so  long  accustomed  to  pay  but  little  attention  to  the 
laws  which  govern  meum  and  tuum  that  it  became 
second  nature  for  him  to  take  whatever  he  wanted  with- 
out saying,  "  By  your  leave."  This  little  failing,  which 
modern  philanthropists  have  covered  up  with  a  mantle 
of  Greek,  if  not  of  charity,  under  the  term  "klepto- 
mania," which  sounds  in  the  ears  of  the  culprit  much 
better  than  the  word  "  stealing,"  was  the  great  trouble 
with  Pierre. 

His  extensive  travels  and  the  standing  of  his  family 
gained  him  admission  into  almost  any  castle  in  France. 
He  had  made  the  most  of  the  hospitality  that  was 
extended  to  him,  and  his  great  fund  of  anecdote  and 
adventure  made  his  company  very  desirable,  and  though 
after  his  departure  valuable  articles  might  be  missing,  the 
theft  was  not,  as  a  rule,  laid  to  his  charge. 

He  had  returned  to  Marseilles,  and  from  there  passed 


236  GRANDMONT. 

up  through  what  is  now  termed  the  Midi  of  France 
toward  Dorat ;  but  his  oriental  life  had  made  him  indo- 
lent, and  as  he  was  having  a  good  time  he  was  in  no 
great  hurry  to  get  home,  especially  as  he  knew  that  Dorat 
was  a  large  area  of  uncultivated  land  in  a  very  inhospit- 
able section  of  France,  where  unruly  serfs  demanded 
constant  attention,  and  where  there  was  a  chance  for 
little  else  besides  hard  work. 

The  gallant  had  assumed  the  then  popular  role  of  a 
troubadour,  and  with  his  voice  accompanied  his  instru- 
ment, generally  a  guitar,  first  telling  of  battles  and 
wonderful  exploits.  The  tales  he  told  seemed  to  rival 
Hercules,  especially  as  he  was  so  mighty  in  killing  lions 
and  immense  serpents. 

At  the  Castle  de  la  Barriere  in  Perigord,  where  he 
stopped  for  a  long  while,  he  tuned  his  strings  to  a  softer 
lay  than  battles.  The  eldest  daughter  of  the  count  was  a 
very  beautiful  girl,  and  it  was  not  hard  work  for  the  war- 
rior-poet to  win  her  favor,  especially  as  men  were  rather 
scarce,  the  flower  having  departed  to  the  Holy  Land. 

He  had  repeated  all  his  fictitious  adventures  and  re- 
counted all  his  stories,  and  yet  he  could  not  tear  himself 
away.  He  began  to  sing  to  the  lady's  eyelids,  and  his 
metaphors  took  another  turn.  He  compared  her  brow 
to  the  snows  of  Lebanon,  her  lips  to  the  rubies  of  Sinai, 
her  eyes  to  the  blue  sky  of  Syria,  her  laughter  to  the 
rippling  of  the  Jordan,  her  grace  to  the  gentle  gazelle, 
her  voice  to  the  whispering  of  the  palm  trees. 

He  was  going  on  at  this  rate  when  the  count  overheard 
him,  and  commanded  a  long  pause  in  the  music,  and 
ordered  the  young  gallant  to  leave  the  Castle  de  la  Bar- 
riere as  far  behind  as  possible.  The  young  lady  shed  a 
few  tears,  but  she  was  not  allowed  to  grieve  very  much, 
as  another  soon  came  along  less  objectionable  to  the 
parents,  and  she  was  happy  again. 


A  REFUGEE.  237 

But  Pierre  had  kept  his  eyes  open  while  at  the  castle 
and  had  seen  where  the  plate  was  stored,  and  in  his 
flight  he  took  good  care  to  take  as  mementoes  of  his  stay 
at  Perigord  as  much  of  the  gold  and  silver  plate  as  he 
could  find.  He  started  early  in  the  morning  for  Roche- 
chouart,  but  before  leaving  he  took  particular  pains  to 
go  to  the  inclosure  where  the  count  kept  his  horses  and 
select  the  best  one,  which  he  mounted  and  was  soon 
galloping  away  at  a  lively  pace.  He  reached  that  castle 
just  before  the  drawbridge  was  raised,  and,  as  his  father 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  family,  he  received  a  very 
hearty  welcome.  The  guest  chamber  was  provided  for 
him,  and  after  the  dinner  he  began  to  repeat  his  stories. 

He  soon  caught  the  eye  and  the  heart  of  a  younger 
daughter  of  the  count,  and  the  old  stories  of  the  snows  of 
Lebanon,  rippling  Jordan,  and  Syrian  sky  were  repeated 
with  greater  emphasis  ;  and,  as  the  Count  of  Roche- 
chouart  was  a  busy  man,  the  troubadour  had  plenty  of 
opportunities  to  tell  "his  oft-repeated  tale."  Indeed,  he 
had  made  such  progress  that  he  determined  to  sue  boldly 
for  the  daughter's  hand. 

The  next  day  there  was  to  be  a  great  hunting  party, 
and  after  the  return  was  the  time  selected  by  the  trouba- 
dour to  tell  his  tale  of  love  to  the  count.  The  hunt  passed 
off  successfully.  Pierre  never  left  his  lady's  side,  ever 
breathing  sweet  nothings  in  her  ear,  and  she  returned 
them  with  just  such  a  smile  as  her  sister  eight  hundred 
years  younger  does  to-day. 

After  the  dinner,  when  the  wine  had  been  plentifully 
supplied,  Pierre  began  his  attack  oh  the  paternal  heart. 
The  Count  of  Rochechouart  was  a  plain,  matter-of-fact, 
business  sort  of  a  man.  He  was  anxious  for  his  daughter 
and  did  not  think  that  she  could  do  much  better  than 
to  take  the  son  of  the  Lord  of  Dorat,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  wanted  to  know  exactly  how  his  child  would  be 


238  GRAND  MONT. 

placed.  So  he  asked  the  young  suitor  how  he  could 
support  a  wife,  and  all  such  questions.  Pierre  re- 
sponded that  he  had  gained  much  in  Palestine,  that  he 
intended  to  buy  out  his  elder  brother,  and  that  money 
was  no  particular  object  to  him,  as  he  intended  going 
back  to  Palestine  with  a  guard  to  get  thousands  of 
pounds  that  he  had  hidden  away,  unable  to  bring  with 
him.  As  a  proof  he  displayed  some  of  the  gold  and 
silver  plate  that  he  had  stolen  from  Perigord  and  other 
places.  The  rascal  had  tried  to  batter  out  all  traces  of 
the  crests  of  the  houses  from  which  he  had  stolen  the 
goods,  but  his  flight  from  Perigord  was  so  precipitate 
that  he  had  not  had  very  much  time.  The  count  called 
his  attention  to  one  piece  that  had  the  crest  of  Barriere 
stamped  on  it ;  but  the  rogue,  not  abashed,  said  that  the 
count  had  forced  him  to  take  that  piece  as  a  memento 
of  his  stay  at  his  castle.  This  seemed  very  plausible, 
and  the  father  said  that  he  would  carefully  consider  the 
matter ;  meantime,  the  young  people  might  consider 
themselves  betrothed. 

The  joy  was  very  great  in  the  castle,  a  feast  was  cele- 
brated in  honor  of  the  young  people's  happiness,  and  all 
seemed  to  go  on  well. 

When  Pierre  had  left  Perigord,  the  loss  was  not  dis- 
covered for  several  days.  It  was  thought  that  the 
horse  had  broken  out  and  strayed  away,  and  as  the 
gold  and  silver  were  not  used  every  day,  it  was  not  until 
the  servants  went  to  polish  the  articles  that  they  were 
missed.  It  was  then  some  time  before  the  suspicion  could 
be  laid  upon  anyone,  and  then  a  poor  blind  beggar,  who 
could  not  tell  a  gold  service  from  a  tin  wash  basin,  was 
blamed  and  was  now  in  the  dungeon  waiting  to  be  tried 
for  the  theft,  and,  if  guilty,  he  was  to  be  hung.  No  one 
thought  of  accusing  Pierre. 

But  it  so  happened  that  the  Counts  of  Perigord  and 


A  REFUGEE.  239 

Rochechouart  were  to  meet  to  arrange  some  matter.  The 
meeting  took  place  just  after  the  night  of  the  betrothal, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  the  Count  of 
Rochechouart  recounted  the  fact  of  the  betrothal  of  the 
younger  son  of  the  Lord  of  Dorat  to  his  daughter,  and 
incidentally  mentioned  the  gold  plate.  This  made  the 
master  of  Barriere  listen,  and  he  insisted  on  going  over 
and  seeing  the  young  man,  which  he  and  the  intended 
father-in-law  proceeded  to  do. 

Pierre  and  his  affianced  were  out  with  a  party  hawking 
when  the  two  counts  arrived.  Without  ceremony  they 
went  up  to  the  guest  chamber  and  began  to  ransack  the 
packages  of  Pierre.  There  they  found  the  articles  which 
bore  the  marks  of  different  castles.  When  questioned  as 
to  the  horse  that  the  young  man  rode,  it  was  found  to  be 
the  very  horse  that  was  missing  from  Barriere. 

The  Count  of  Rochechouart  was  now  very  angry.  He 
vowed  that  the  thief,  who  had  not  only  stolen  the  plate 
and  horse  of  his  friend,  but  was  stealing  his  daughter, 
should  be  tried  and  executed.  The  counts  at  once 
started  in  pursuit  of  the  party.  An  hour's  gallop  brought 
them  to  the  spot  where  Pierre  was  showering  his  affection 
on  the  young  lady,  while  they  gave  little  attention  to 
hawking  or  the  party.  The  young  people  were  so  in- 
terested in  themselves  that  they  did  not  see  the  enraged 
father  and  his  friend  until  they  were  upon  them.  Pierre 
was  riding  the  stolen  horse,  his  hand  resting  on  the 
pommel  of  the  young  lady's  saddle,  their  heads  as  close 
as  they  could  be  without  losing  their  balance.  The 
lovers  were  wholly  oblivious  of  the  storm,  worse  than 
any  cyclone,  that  was  sweeping  on  to  engulf  them. 

A  few  sharp,  startling  words  brought  them  back  from 
Elysium  to  the  hardest  realities  of  life  ;  for  what  is  there 
worse  than  discovering  that  one  to  whom  you  have  given 
your  heart's  inmost  treasure  is  as  false  as  the  father  of 


240  GRANDMONT. 

lies?  Or  what  can  be  more  terrible  than,  after  leading 
successfully  a  life  of  deceit  and  feeling  that  the  ground 
underneath  the  feet  is  firm  and  sure,  in  a  moment  to 
have  the  foundations  destroyed  and  to  be  exposed  in  all 
one's  wretched  nakedness  and  falsity  ? 

A  rogue  who  had  been  leading  a  double  life  of  infamy 
said,  when  unmasked  in  court  recently,  "  There  remains 
nothing  now  for  me  but  the  ball  of  a  pistol  or  the  quick, 
deadly  dose  of  poison." 

Pierre  was  too  cowardly  to  commit  suicide  ;  he  had 
just  religion  enough  to  make  him  afraid  to  die.  When 
the  Count  of  Perigord  close  by  yelled  out,  "  Down,  you 
dog.  Get  to  the  dungeon,  you  thief  !  Come  to  your  well- 
earned  deserts,  you  rascal!"  it  was  only  second  nature 
for  Pierre  to  turn  his  back  on  his  lady  and  the  two  men, 
and  with  spurs  ground  into  his  horse's  side  to  fly  as  fast 
as  the  best  horse  in  all  Perigord  could  take  him.  The 
two  counts  started  in  pursuit  after  sounding  an  alarm,  so 
that  everybody  now  was  after  him.  But  his  good  horse 
distanced  for  a  time  the  pursuers.  He  did  not  dare 
start  in  the  direction  of  his  father's;  he  did  not  dare  enter 
any  walled  town,  as  that  would  be  only  a  cage  for  him  ;  so 
he  turned  his  horse  toward  the  mountains.  That  evening, 
abandoning  his  horse,  which  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  he 
sought  shelter  in  a  hollow  tree.  He  was  awakened  the 
next  morning  by  the  baying  of  the  hounds  that  were  on  his 
track  ;  so  he  started  for  a  stream  and  waded  along  its 
course  for  some  time.  His  way  had  taken  him  near 
Ambazac,  and  he  thought  that  he  had  made  the  dogs  lose 
the  scent,  when  he  heard  a  noise  and  saw  his  would-be 
father-in-law  only  a  few  hundred  yards  behind.  He 
turned  and,  quickly  crossing  the  ravine,  ran  into  the 
bushes,  where  no  horse  could  follow  him. 

But  the  old  noble  was  eager  for  his  prey  and,  dis- 
mounting from  his  horse,  led  the  chase  on  foot.  He 


A  REFUGEE.  241 

was  handicapped  with  more  weight  than  Pierre,  but  was 
fresher.  Now  the  only  hope  for  the  wretch  was  to  find 
an  asylum.  In  the  distance  was  the  monastery  of 
Etienne.  If  he  could  only  reach  that  place  before  his 
pursuers,  he  would  be  safe  from  physical  injury,  and 
thither  he  ran  with  all  the  force  that  he  could  summon. 
Every  unnecessary  article  of  clothing  was  left  behind  on 
the  way,  and  with  the  thundering  step  of  the  avenger  in 
close  proximity  he  rushed  panting  into  the  chapel 
where  the  monks  were  worshiping,  and  out  of  breath 
fell  on  his  knees  before  the  altar.  Like  a  dog  that 
has  chased  a  hare  a  long  way,  and  when  he  is  just 
about  to  close  his  jaws  upon  the  beast  sees  it 
dodge  under  a  large  rock  in  a  hole  which  he  cannot  en- 
ter, so  Rochechouart  felt  when  he  saw  Pierre  enter 
the  monastery.  He  knew  that  the  prey  was  safely 
holed,  and  to  wait  for  him  to  come  out  would  make  the 
count  more  weary  than  the  culprit  ;  so  the  only  thing 
left  was  to  stand  at  the  door  and  swear,  just  as  a  dog 
barks  before  the  hole  the  hare  has  entered. 

Hugues  came  out  to  try  to  pacify  the  enraged  man, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  Nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  the 
body  of  Pierre,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  monastery 
had  not  been  so  polluted  with  blasphemy  since  its  erec- 
tion as  now.  Hugues,  seeing  his  inability  to  quiet  the 
man,  took  him  around  to  Etienne's  cell,  and  when  the 
monk  came,  his  simple,  earnest  manner  allayed  the  tur- 
bulent passions,  and  he  urged  the  man  to  rest  awhile 
and  breathe  the  air  of  peace. 

Etienne's  words  soon  soothed  the  raging  count,  and 
he  rested  until  the  supper  hour ;  then  he  was  invited  to 
partake  of  the  frugal  repast  of  bean  soup.  What  was  his 
surprise  and  horror  to  find  that  Pierre  was  there  too ! 
To  go  over  and  give  that  rogue  a  box  on  the  ears  was 
the  work  of  a  moment,  and  more  would  have  hap- 


242  GRANDMONT. 

pened  had  not  Hugues,  who  was  greatly  annoyed  that 
such  a  scene  should  have  taken  place  before  his  beloved 
Etienne,  rushed  up  and  from  behind  seized  the  bellig- 
erent count  and,  lifting  him  clear  from  the  floor,  held 
him  as  in  a  vise,  while  his  brother  monks  led  Pierre  out 
of  the  monastery  dining  room. 

Etienne  rebuked  the  count  very  sharply  for  his  con- 
duct, and  made  him  swear  that  he  would  never  in  the 
future  use  violence  toward  Pierre  before  he  would  grant 
the  desired  forgiveness. 

The  count  took  his  leave  after  this  as  soon  as  he  could, 
and  returned  to  his  castle.  He  found  his  poor  daughter 
Marie  in  great  distress.  She  knew  but  little  of  the 
world.  How  could  she,  poor  child,  as  from  her  infancy 
she  had  never  passed  a  night  from  under  her  father's 
roof  ?  The  father  had  a  great  deal  of  fine  feeling  about 
him  under  all  that  rough  exterior.  He  called  his  weep- 
ing child  to  him,  and  in  the  very  tenderest  way  showed 
her  how  narrowly  she  had  escaped  being  the  victim  of 
the  rascally  Pierre. 

A  messenger  was  at  once  dispatched  to  Dorat  to  tell 
the  parents  of  the  disgraceful  son  about  his  return  and 
what  had  happened.  The  Lord  of  Dorat  was  so  thor- 
oughly shocked  at  what  had  occurred  that  he  at  once 
set  out  for  Grandmont,  bent  on  learning  all  that  was 
possible.  The  meeting  between  the  father  and  son 
was  not  very  comforting.  The  wretched  vagabond  had 
to  confess  his  guilt  and  meet  the  anger  of  his  parent. 
Pierre  promised  that  he  would  leave  immediately  for  the 
Holy  Land,  and  only  under  such  conditions  did  his  father 
forgive  him. 

The  next  morning  the  poor  fellow,  dilapidated  and 
crestfallen,  went  out  with  a  passing  throng  that  was  go- 
ing to  take  the  cross.  The  experience  of  the  past, 
together  with  some  good  advice  from  Etienne  and 


A   REFUGEE.  243 

Hugues,  made  the  profligate  sober  and  steady  for  a  while; 
but  after  he  had  been  out  for  a  time  and  was  sufficiently 
far  from  the  country  not  to  be  known,  he  plunged  into 
excesses  more  wildly  than  ever,  and  soon  fell  a  victim  to 
his  own  evil  propensities  and  died  of  a  wretched  disease. 
Poor  little  Marie  drooped  like  a  frozen  lily  after  this 
adventure.  She  was  glad  that  she  had  been  saved  from 
such  disgrace,  but  her  heart  had  been  unreservedly  given 
to  that  unworthy  man.  Her  appetite  went  away  entire- 
ly, the  bloom  faded  from  her  cheek,  the  company  of  the 
gay  and  festive  had  no  longer  any  attractions  for  her. 
When  the  scarred  warriors  repeated  their  tales  of  con- 
flict in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle,  she  would  quietly  steal 
away  to  her  own  room  ;  when  the  music  of  the  trouba- 
dour sounded  the  ditties  which  made  others  laugh,  tears 
came  to  her  eyes ;  and  when  parties  went  out  for  the 
chase  or  engaged  in  any  of  the  sports  of  the  age,  she  al- 
ways found  some  excuse  for  not  making  one  of  them. 
She  begged  the  consent  of  her  parents  to  retire  into  a 
convent.  This  was  given,  and  when  the  doors  closed 
behind  her  she  shut  out  the  world  so  completely  that 
even  her  friends  never  saw  her  afterward.  But  O,  the 
end  was  not  yet !  Those  ceaseless  vigils,  that  long  un- 
rest, that  little  broken  heart  drove  the  beauty  from  her 
cheeks  and  the  brilliancy  from  her  eyes,  and  brought 
ashes  where  once  beauty  had  been  enthroned.  Soon  a 
hacking  cough,  followed  by  a  bright  hectic  spot  on  each 
cheek,  appeared,  but  still  she  relented  not  a  single  vigil. 
Her  sister  nuns  could  laugh ;  she  wept.  They  might 
eat ;  she  only  coughed.  They  sang  praises ;  she  sang 
requiems.  They  slept ;  she  prayed  and  suffered.  No 
one  could  ever  get  from  her  a  single  word  of  complaint. 
She  saw  with  great  contentment  that  she  was  going,  and 
early  one  cold  morning,  when  the  matin  bells  summoned 
to  early  prayer,  for  the  first  time  since  she  had  entered 


244  GRANDMONT. 

the  convent  she  was  missed.  The  unusual  absence 
caused  an  inquiry.  As  the  door  to  the  little  cell  that 
shut  her  out  from  the  world  was  opened,  a  figure  kneel- 
ing at  the  foot  of  a  crucifix  was  revealed.  Her  head  had 
fallen  down  upon  the  cold  stone,  her  hands  still  grasped 
the  beads  that  for  unnumbered  times  she  had  counted, 
and  that  broken  heart,  that  was  so  lively  and  full  of 
hope  before  the  dark  shadow  of  Pierre  cast  its  gloom  of 
blight  upon  her,  was  now  still  forever.  The  poor 
crushed  flower  had  fallen  to  the  earth,  and  she  had  left 
the  world  forever. 


PRIVATE  WAR,  245 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

PRIVATE    WAR. 

THE  terrible  plague  that  was  devastating  Limoges, 
and  for  which  the  people  near  Ambazac  had 
found  a  remedy  in  the  waters  that  flowed  from  beneath 
a  mysterious  mound — this  scourge  that  had  struck  ter- 
ror and  sorrow  into  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants  of  that 
vicinity — was  still  continuing  its  ghastly  work.  The 
abandoned  dead,  the  sick  and  the  dying,  the  universal 
fear — all  helped  to  spread  the  disease.  The  fields  were 
left  untilled,  the  crops  ungathered,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
angel  of  death  was  about  to  claim  the  entire  population 
of  this  section  of  France. 

Oftentimes  this  disease  stopped  almost  as  suddenly  as 
it  began.  Some  natural  cause — some  change  in  the  tem- 
perature, a  frost,  or  a  fall  of  snow  or  rain — swept  the 
poison  away ;  or,  like  a  fire  that  burns  until  it  can  find 
no  more  fuel  and  then  dies  out,  so  this  disease  began 
to  disappear.  The  glory  of  its  disappearance,  however, 
is  claimed  by  the  Church  for  the  relics  of  St.  Martial. 
His  body  was  exhumed  in  the  presence  of  a  vast  crowd, 
and  his  bones  were  carried  to  Mont  Jovis,  where  in  early 
times  stood  a  temple  to  Jupiter.  They  were  then  taken 
back  again  to  the  church  and  exposed.  The  faith  of  the 
people  made  them  believe  that  sweet  odors  proceeded 
from  the  coffin,  and  that  virtue  at  once  was  felt  to  stay 
the  power  of  the  disease,  which  soon  after  disappeared. 

But  now  a  worse  trouble  than  the  plague  attacked  Li- 
moges, which  was  divided  into  two  sections,  one  called 
the  castle  and  the  other  the  city.  The  latter,  with  the 


246  GRANDMONT. 

cathedral  as  its  center,  was  governed  by  the  bishop,  while 
the  former  was  under  the  control  of  the  vicomte.  Be- 
tween these  two  powers,  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical, 
there  was  a  constant  strife  ;  and  that  little  narrow,  wind- 
ing street,  called  to-day  the  Faubourg  de  la  Boucherie 
("  Street  of  the  Butchery  "),  has  been  the  scene  of  many 
a  bloody  conflict,  but  perhaps  never  more  frequently 
than  during  the  years  of  1103  and  1105. 

It  seems  hardly  possible  now  that  there  could  have 
been  such  disastrous  civil  conflicts  as  took  place  in  the 
dark  ages.  The  great  cause  of  the  strife  was  then,  as 
now,  the  greed  of  gain.  It  seems  that  certain  lands  had 
been  given  by  ecclesiastical  authority  to  the  bishop  and 
monastery  of  St.  Martial.  The  Vicomte  de  Limoges 
naturally  did  not  admit  that  these  lands  were  lawfully 
withheld  from  his  suzerainty,  and  the  result  was  a 
clash  of  arms.  In  the  matter  of  arms  the  bishop  was 
about  as  well  equipped  as  the  vicomte.  The  monas- 
tery and  his  palace  were  well  fortified,  a  deep  moat  sur- 
rounded his  grounds,  and  heavy  battlements  defended 
it.  Besides,  he  had  an  armed  force  to  do  his  will  and  to 
resist  any  interference.  Two  armed  forces,  under  two 
naturally  rival  powers,  could  not  help  coming  to  blows. 

It  happened  that  in  the  month  of  July,  1103,  the 
fruits  of  some  of  the  disputed  lands  were  brought  to  the 
castle  of  the  vicomte — flocks  of  sheep,  some  very  fine 
cattle,  grain,  and  vegetables.  The  good  monks  stirred 
up  the  jealousy  of  the  bishop,  who  sent  out  an  armed 
force  to  take  the  animals  and  the  vegetables.  The  poor 
farmers  and  serfs  ran  screaming  like  so  many  whipped 
dogs,  and  while  the  representatives  of  the  Church  mili- 
tant drove  off  the  cattle,  the  farmers,  fearing  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  vicomte,  rushed  up  to  the  castle  and 
poured  out  their  woes  into  ears  that  were  only  too  ready 
to  hear  any  evil  against  the  bishop.  The  cattle  were 


PRIVATE   WAR.  247 

specially  wanted  to  meet  a  requisition  made  by  the 
king,  and  the  loss  was  too  considerable  to  overlook.  The 
vicomte  was  not  a  man  to  rage  in  quiet  very  long.  He 
ordered  the  clarion  to  be  sounded  immediately  and  all 
the  troops  of  the  castle  to  be  put  under  arms.  The  ring- 
ing of  the  alarm  was  heard  just  on  the  other  side  of  the 
moat  by  the  bishop,  who  ordered  like  preparations, 
though  he  did  not  make  the  noise  about  calling  his  troops 
together  that  the  vicomte  did.  Perhaps  he  was  al- 
ready prepared  and  expected  the  result,  and  thought 
that  the  absence  of  a  number  of  soldiers  from  the  castle 
would  give  him  a  good  opportunity  to  force  the  written 
consent  from  the  vicomte.  But,  like  many  others  who 
provoke  a  war,  the  mistake  was  found  out  when  it  was 
too  late. 

Unknown  to  the  bishop,  a  large  contingent  of  troops 
had  arrived  at  the  castle  the  night  before,  and  the  vi- 
comte was  in  a  most  excellent  condition  to  fight. 
When  thoroughly  aroused  he  was  a  good  general,  and 
the  ecclesiastic  was  no  match  for  him.  As  a  rule  the 
conflicts  took  place  where  the  two  territories  joined,  and 
the  beaten  party  retreated  to  the  fortress  to  which  he 
belonged  ;  but  on  this  occasion,  while  the  troops  of  the 
bishop  were  receiving  the  benediction  and  listening 
to  a  harangue,  the  vicomte  had  divided  his  forces 
into  two  parts,  which  were  to  leave  the  castle  by  two 
ways.  A  small  force  was  to  march  to  the  entrance  of 
the  bishop's  grounds  and  demand  a  surrender  of  the 
goods  that  were  taken  and  also  a  penalty  for  the  out- 
rage. This  demand,  it  was  known,  would  be  refused,  and 
an  appeal  to  arms  would  surely  follow.  According  to 
custom  the  bishop  would  then  send  out  his  army,  and 
the  two  would  fight  the  matter  out.  As  the  force  of  the 
bishop  was  superior  to  the  attacking  party,  orders  were 
given  by  the  vicomte  to  retreat  after  the  first  skirmish 


248  GRAND  MONT. 

up  the  Vienne,  but  to  retire  slowly  and  fighting,  so 
as  to  draw  the  bishop's  forces  from  the  cathedral. 
After  the  pursuers  had  been  withdrawn  a  sufficient  dis- 
tance, the  second  relay  was  to  sweep  down  on  the  cathe- 
dral and,  if  possible,  take  it  by  storm.  The  vicomte 
himself  was  the  leader  of  this  detachment. 

The  tactics  of  the  wily  lord  of  the  castle  were  suc- 
cessful at  every  point.  The  bishop  fell  into  the  snare. 
As  he  came  forth  beyond  the  cathedral  to  encour- 
age his  troops,  thinking  that  he  had  them  now  under 
his  own  power,  and  in  his  own  mind  was  planning  terms 
by  which  the  lands  in  question  should  forever  revert  to 
the  bishopric,  he  was  surprised  by  a  loud  cry  coming 
from  the  cathedral,  and,  looking  up,  saw  that  he  was 
cut  off  from  his  fortress  by  his  enemy,  who  was  charging 
down  upon  him  with  the  speed  of  a  man  who  is  leading 
his  forces  to  assured  victory.  The  few  attendants  of 
the  bishop  fled  in  every  direction,  and  as  the  church- 
man fell  on  his  knees  to  pray  heaven  for  help  he  was 
immediately  surrounded  by  the  enemy,  who  led  him  a 
prisoner  to  the  castle,  a  place  which  he  had  said  he  would 
never  visit.  Having  secured  this  prize,  the  vicomte 
rushed  toward  the  cathedral.  The  attendants,  who 
were  expecting  the  bishop,  had  not  shut  the  gates.  The 
victorious  forces  entered,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
treasures  of  the  cathedral  were  in  the  hands  of  the 
plunderer.  Very  little  blood  had  been  shed,  but  a  de- 
cisive victory  had  been  won. 

The  bells  were  rung  for  a  cessation  of  the  combat,  and 
the  victor  rode  out  of  the  gates  of  the  church  fortress 
with  many  times  the  value  of  the  cattle  and  goods  taken 
by  the  guard  of  the  bishop  in  the  morning.  What  a  sur- 
prise awaited  the  pursuing  soldiers,  who  thought  they 
had  gained  the  victory  !  They  found  not  only  that  the 
cathedral  had  been  plundered  and  the  bishop  was  a 


PRIVATE   WAR.  249 

prisoner,  but  when  they  entered  the  cathedral  ground 
a  strong  guard  was  set  to  prevent  their  escape,  so  that 
the  news  of  the  battle  could  not  be  carried  to  other 
quarters  by  the  friends  of  the  bishop  until  the  papers 
were  signed. 

The  poor  Bishop  of  Limoges  was  thoroughly  humil- 
iated. When  summoned  into  the  vicomte's  presence, 
after  the  return  of  that  warrior,  he  was  a  very  sorry 
spectacle.  He  said  to  the  master  of  the  situation  :  "  I 
am  in  your  power.  Do  unto  me  what  pleases  you.  But 
know  that  God  will  hold  you  to  account  for  the  way 
in  which  you  treat  his  ministers."  "  Yes,  my  lord," 
answered  the  haughty  visitor,  "  and  the  same  God 
will  hold  you  to  an  account  for  the  depredations  and 
thefts  which  you  have  committed  through  your  vassals. 
Now  is  a  good  time  to  square  accounts."  After  a 
long  parley  and  absolute  refusals  on  both  sides,  consid- 
erable concession  was  made  on  the  part  of  the  bishop, 
who  signed  a  release  and  paid  a  large  price  for  his 
misdoings.  The  ecclesiastic  was  escorted  by  the  cas- 
tle guards  to  the  cathedral,  which  once  more  received 
its  master,  the  guards  were  removed,  and  for  a  time 
peace  and  quietude  reigned  between  these  two  rival 
powers. 

Several  weeks  after  this  the  bishop  "  to  show  his  good 
will,"  as  he  declared,  invited  his  successful  brother  of  the 
castle  to  a  banquet.  As  the  invitation  was  accompanied 
by  a  request  that  the  vicomte  should  leave  his  soldiers 
at  the  castle,  it  was  not  accepted,  for,  as  the  representative 
of  temporal  power  said,  "  Does  this  old  fox  expect  me  to 
put  my  head  deliberately  into  the  lion's  jaws  with  no 
more  return  than  a  dinner  ?  "  But  to  refuse  an  invita- 
tion was  tantamount  to  a  declaration  of  war,  and,  as 
nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  a  further  conflict,  the  vi- 
comte sent  back  this  word  : 
16 


250  GRANDMONT. 

"  To  His  HOLINESS  THE  BISHOP  OF  LIMOGES,  GREET- 
ING :  The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  entertaining 
your  reverence  was  after  a  manner  that  I  think  needs  no 
return  of  the  same  civility.  However,  if  it  is  really  your 
wish  to  cement  as  lasting  the  peace  which  now  exists 
between  the  cathedral  and  the  castle,  let  us  meet  on  that 
common  ground  between  our  respective  fortresses,  and 
there  under  temporary  booths  eat  and  drink  to  our  future 
peace  and  prosperity.  I  myself  will  be  responsible  for 
the  erection  of  the  booths  and  for  the  behavior  of  my 
soldiers. 

"  I  am,  my  dear  bishop,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

"VICOMTE  DE  LIMOGES." 

As  this  invitation  was  delivered  in  such  a  manner,  the 
bishop  could  not  decline,  and  his  plan  of  returning  the 
compliment  of  imprisonment  was  upset  by  the  shrewd 
nobleman.  The  feast  was  held,  and  for  years  after- 
ward peace  was  kept  between  the  two  respective  powers. 


DUKE   FULK  THE   BLACK.  25 1 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DUKE    FULK  THE    BLACK. 

THERE  are  few  names  that  have  created  more  dread, 
inspired  more  hope,  or  been  recognized  as  more 
of  a  terror  than  that  of  Fulk  Nerra,  better  known  in 
France  as  Fulk  the  Black.  This  man  came  to  the  duke- 
dom of  Anjou  at  a  time  when  it  had  sunk  almost  to  a 
vassalage  of  the  surrounding  powerful  realms  of  the 
Counts  of  Blois  and  Champagne.  In  order  to  under- 
stand a  little  of  his  character  it  is  only  necessary  to  re- 
call some  of  his  deeds.  He  seems  to  have  been  one  of 
those  pitiless,  heartless  wretches  that  were  so  numerous 
at  that  period.  It  is  reported  that  when  he  was  still  a 
very  young  man  he,  for  some  reason,  took  umbrage  at 
his  wife.  Instead  of  giving  her  a  beating,  as  was  the 
custom  eight  hundred  years  ago,  he  ordered  her  to  her 
chamber  and  bade  her  dress  in  her  finest  robes, 
as  if  going  to  court.  He  then  dressed  himself  in 
the  same  manner,  and  with  a  company  of  soldiers 
led  her  forth  outside  of  his  castle,  where  he  or- 
dered her  bound  to  a  stake,  heaped  a  pile  of  com- 
bustibles around  her,  and,  in  spite  of  her  cries  and 
entreaties,  had  her  burned  alive,  while  he  looked  on  and 
enjoyed  the  spectacle.  In  his  eyes  nothing  was  sacred, 
neither  promises,  pledges,  right  of  sanctuary,  nor  Church. 
Whatever  he  desired  he  took,  if  he  was  powerful 
enough  to  get  it,  and  it  mattered  not  whether  it  was  a 
friend  or  a  foe  that  he  attacked.  A  minister  of  the 
French  king  had  advised  the  monarch  to  do  many 
things  against  Fulk,  and  the  monster,  on  hearing  it,  sent 


252  GRANDMONT. 

twelve  assassins  to  kill  this  man  in  the  king's  presence, 
threatening  that  if  they  failed  in  their  mission  he  would 
have  them  instantly  executed.  This  savage  act  they 
accomplished,  to  the  terror  of  the  king  and  of  the  whole 
court,  and  no  name  was  feared  more  than  that  of  Fulk. 
In  his  old  age  his  own  son  revolted  against  his  cruelties 
and  oppressions  and,  gathering  an  army  of  the  discon- 
tented, attempted  his  father's  overthrow  ;  but  the  old 
man  rallied  his  forces  and  rushed  upon  the  revolters 
with  so  much  energy  that  they  were  completely  routed. 
He  commanded  them  to  saddle  and  bridle  his  son  like  a 
beast  of  burden  and  lead  him  thus  into  his  presence. 
When  Fulk  saw  him,  he  cried  out,  "  Art  thou  conquered  ? 
Art  thou  conquered?" 

Fulk  possessed  all  the  requisites  for  success  in  that 
barbarous  age.  He  was  endowed  with  personal  courage 
to  a  wonderful  degree,  was  able  to  organize  and  execute 
plans  for  assault  and  defense,  and,  like  all  tyrants,  he 
was  supremely  jealous  and  unscrupulous  in  his  trans- 
actions. As  an  example  of  his  bravery,  it  is  told  that  in 
one  of  his  first  battles  there  was  a  moment  when  all 
seemed  lost.  He  was  fighting  with  the  Bretons  on  their 
own  territory,  where  they  had  prepared  a  number  of 
pitfalls  into  which  an  advancing  army  would  certainly 
fall.  At  the  right  time  the  Bretons  retreated,  and,  know- 
ing where  to  go,  passed  in  safety  over  the  dangerous 
spot,  but  Fulk,  rushing  up  with  his  horsemen,  plunged 
into  the  pits.  This  was  enough  to  destroy  any  ordinary 
force,  but  Fulk  disentangled  himself  and  almost  single- 
handed  dashed  upon  the  foe  with  such  vigor  that  he 
routed  the  entire  army  and  gained  the  day.  Long  after 
this  the  Angevins,  in  their  songs,  likened  this  charge  to 
"  a  stormy  wind  bending  the  thick  corn  rows." 

It  happened  that  his  old  friend,  the  Count  of  Le 
Mans,  one  who  more  than  once  had  befriended  him  and. 


DUKE  FULK  THE  BLACK.  253 

saved  his  life  when- in  danger,  was  enticed  into  his  castle 
and  held  captive  until  Fulk  had  robbed  him  of  all  his 
lands.  There  was  no  law  in  France  that  could  reverse 
this  except  the  sword,  and  the  arms  of  Fulk  were  too 
well  known  for  any  knight  to  dare  even  to  rebuke  the 
wretch,  who  even  at  that  epoch,  when  crime,  rapine, 
murder,  and  theft  were  so  common,  was  looked  upon  as 
a  veritable  personification  of  all  that  was  evil  and  ter- 
rible. Herbert  of  Le  Mans,  destitute  and  'robbed, 
turned  his  steps  to  the  one  solitary  hope  that  was  left, 
namely,  the  Church.  Instead  of  appealing  to  the  neigh- 
boring lords  and  barons,  or  asking  the  influence  of  the 
king  in  his  behalf,  he  came  to  a  source  that  was  still 
stronger  than  these,  though  possessing  no  arms  but 
prayers  and  no  fortifications  but  the  good  character  of 
the  monks.  Herbert  came  to  Etienne  and  made  known 
his  griefs  and  sorrows,  picturing  out  the  wrongs  he  had 
innocently  suffered,  and  revealing  the  terrible  character 
of  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  At  the  tale  of  such  atrocities, 
villainies,  and  cruelties,  and  as  the  utter  disregard  for 
truth,  virtue,  honor,  and  religion  was  unfolded  before 
the  pure  eyes  of  Etienne,  his  soul  shrank  in  horror  from 
this  demon  in  human  form. 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Hugues,  "and  he  must  be  con- 
verted." 

"  Would  to  God  that  it  might  be  as  you  say,"  replied 
Etienne;  "but,  alas,  we  can  do  nothing  but  pray." 

"Yes,  we  can,"  said  Hugues ;  "we  can  do  more  than 
that." 

"  Pray  tell  me,  my  son,  what  can  we  do  more  ?  Can 
we  send  an  army  and  take  him  ?  Can  we  force  him,  as 
Clovis  did,  at  the  point  of  the  sword  ?  Know  you  not 
that  it  would  be  easier  to  take  the  King  of  France  than 
this  son  of  the  pit  ?  " 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  calmly  responded  Hugues.  "  Fulk 


254  GRANDMONT. 

and  myself  have  fought  on  many  a  field.  We  know  each 
other  well,  and  I  am  sure  there  is  the  making  of  a  good 
monk  in  him." 

"  God  has  greatly  blessed  you  and  made  you  to  tri- 
umph over  all  your  enemies  so  far,  and  perhaps  he  may 
make  you  the  means  now  of  overcoming  this  giant  of 
evil,  this  Goliath  of  the  Philistines.  Whatever  the  Lord 
puts  in  your  heart  to  do,  that  do,  and  may  his  blessings 
attend  you  !  " 

"  I  will  only  ask  that  you  pray  for  me,  and  that  you 
hold  the  monastery  ready  seven  days  hence  to  receive 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,"  replied  Hugues. 

"  I  will  do  as  you  say,"  returned  Etienne,  his  eyes 
now  filling  with  tears  as  he  thought  of  this  brave 
disciple. 

"I  ask,"  said  Hugues,  "  that  Herbert  of  Le  Mans  re- 
main here  and  meet  his  enemy  face  to  face  on  my  return." 

"  And  do  you  really  think  that  you  will  bring  back 
that  prince  of  evil  ?  "  said  Herbert  in  amazement. 

"  I  most  certainly  do,"  answered  Hugues. 

"  Then  I  shall  leave  instantly,  for  no  one's  head  is  safe 
a  moment  when  he  is  around,"  Herbert  exclaimed. 

"  Fear  not.  The  teeth  of  the  lion  will  be  drawn  be- 
fore he  leaves  here,"  said  the  intrepid  Hugues. 

Kneeling  a  few  moments  at  the  altar  in  silent  prayer, 
then  hastening  to  receive  the  benediction  of  the  loved 
Etienne,  Hugues  sallied  forth,  with  his  old  staff  as  his 
companion,  to  beard  the  "wild  beast  of  the  forest,"  as 
Fulk  was  called. 

Many  had  been  the  missions  on  which  Hugues  had 
been  sent.  Some  of  them  had  been  very  delicate  to  con- 
summate, but  all  had  been  successfully  accomplished, 
and  never  as  yet  had  he  been  defeated  in  his  object. 
Sometimes  he  had  been  almost  thwarted,  as  when  the 
Benedictines  at  Solignac  nearly  crushed  him  under  the 


DUKE   FULK   THE   BLACK.  255 

weight  of  their  calumnies  and  duplicities  ;  but  always, 
in  some  way  or  other,  he  escaped  and  came  off  tri- 
umphant. Never  had  he,  however,  attempted  to  bring 
into  subjection  so  powerful  a  personage  as  the  Duke 
of  Anjou.  The  latter  had  heard  of  the  former  Lord 
of  Chalus's  conversion,  and  would  often  hold  him  up 
with  sneers  and  jests  before  a  company  of  vassals.  In- 
deed, the  duke  had  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  would 
like  to  run  across  this  "Sir  Monk  "  and  see  how  the  life 
affected  him,  and  if  it  were  true  that  he  loved  his  crucifix 
as  he  had  his  evil  life.  Before  Hugues's  conversion 
these  two  men,  who  had  much  in  common,  were  often 
brought  together,  and,  as  each  was  perfectly  fearless  and 
a  master  on  the  battlefield,  they  respected  one  another's 
bravery  and  skill  at  arms ;  and  it  happened  that  never 
had  their  encounters  led  them  into  personal  antago- 
nism, for  their  interests  had  never  clashed.  Now  the 
monk  was  starting  out  single-handed  to  capture  the 
most  powerful  lord  in  France.  The  result  might  well 
be  doubtful  ? 

Could  we  have  watched  Hugues  as  he  journeyed 
toward  Tours  we  would  have  often  seen  him  setting  up 
his  crucifix,  repeating  the  service  of  the  dead,  snatches 
of  the  mass,  and  kneeling  in  prayer ;  but  steadily  he 
kept  his  course  toward  Tours,  where  the  dread  lord  re- 
sided. He  reached  the  castle  just  before  sunset,  and  the 
master  had  just  finished  his  hearty  dinner  when  Hugues 
was  ushered  into  his  presence.  Monks  and  priests  were 
not  very  frequent  visitors  to  this  castle,  for  the  barbarous 
lord  thought  no  more  of  mutilating  them  than  he  did  of 
cutting  off  a  chicken's  head,  and  it  was  rare  sport  to  make 
them  commit  some  carnal  or  mortal  sin  and  send  them 
back  with  the  record  of  their  disgrace  written  on  their 
backs.  Anjou  did  not  at  first  recognize  Hugues  de  La- 
certa,  and  gruffly  asked  :  "  What  has  tempted  thee,  black 


256  GRANDMONT. 

frock,  to  put  thy  head  in  the  lion's  jaws  ?  Dost  thou 
think  I  am  become  another  imbecile  like  the  Lord  of 
Chalus  that  thou  shouldst  dare  to  enter  here,  where  all 
this  monkish  flummery  is  hated?  Dispatch  thy  business 
quickly  and  leave  before  the  portcullis  falls,  or  thou  wilt 
regret  the  hour  that  brought  thee  hither." 

Hugues,  unterrified,  walked  up  close  to  where  the  mon- 
ster sat  and  said  :  "  Be  it  known  to  thee  that  thy  evil 
deeds,  thy  crimes  and  villainies,  have  been  recounted  in 
the  ears  of  my  master,  Etienne  of  Grandmont,  and  he  has 
sent  me  hither  to  call  thee  to  confession  and  repentance. 
I  bid  thee  be  ready  to  depart  with  me  at  sunrise  to-mor- 
row, in  order  that  thou  mayst  yet  have  time  to  prepare 
for  heaven  before  it  is  too  late  and  the  devil  has  thee 
roasting  like  a  pig  on  a  spit  in  the  unquenchable  fires  of 
perdition  !  " 

"Saints  and  devils,  hear  this  madman  !"  cried  the 
lord,  greatly  amused  at  Hugues's  audacity.  "  Never 
before  has  a  black-frocked  baldpate  dared  to  address 
me  as  dost  thou.  Perhaps  thou  art  not  mortal.  I  will 
test  thy  divinity."  And  he  raised  his  club  to  strike 
Hugues  over  the  head,  but  the  latter's  gnarled  staff 
caught  the  descending  blow  and  hurled  the  club  across 
the  floor,  greatly  to  the  amazement  of  the  duke,  who 
said  :  "  Ah,  well !  Though  you  wear  a  frock,  you  are  no 
woman.  Come  and  dine,  and  then  we  will  talk  about 
this  matter,  and  I  will  go  to  Grandmont  or  thou  shalt 
go  to  the  gallows." 

Hugues  replied,  "  I  will  accept  thy  hospitality,  for  the 
walk  has  worn  me."  So,  sitting  down,  he  partook  heart- 
ily of  the  good  cheer  that  was  provided,  the  duke  the 
while  looking  on  in  amazement  at  this  creature  clothed 
in  a  monk's  garb. 

After  dinner  the  duke  ordered  two  swords  to  be 
brought,  and,  giving  one  to  Hugues,  said  :  "  Now  de- 


DUKE  FULK  THE   BLACK.  257 

fend  thyself.  If  thou  be  a  messenger  from  Etienne  and 
sent  to  take  me,  I  will  go  if  thou  wilt  overcome  me  in 
battle  ;  but  if  thou  art  overcome,  remember  that  I  will 
hang  thee  on  the  walls  until  thy  carcass  falls  to  the 
ground."  "As  thou  wilt,"  replied  Hugues.  "Only bring 
in  witnesses  to  hear  the  contract  and  take  down  our 
pledges." 

The  duke,  who  only  expected  to  have  some  fun 
and  to  show  to  the  court  his  superior  swordsmanship, 
was  ready  to  sign  any  contract,  for  he  felt  so  sure 
of  the  victory  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  to  pledge  his 
dukedom  would  be  no  risk.  The  articles  were  drawn 
up  and  signed  by  the  duke.  Hugues  simply  bared  his 
arm  and,  opening  his  flesh,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
in  his  own  blood  and  witnessed  his  own  intrepidity. 
This  made  the  old  duke  tremble  ;  he  had  never  seen  an 
act  like  that  before.  The  two  men  were  nearly  the  same 
age,  both  being  past  middle  life.  The  duke,  al- 
though always  active  in  wars,  had  indulged  in  wine  and 
good  living,  so  that  in  a  long  combat  he  was  apt  to  lose 
breath.  Hugues,  on  the  contrary,  had  been  reduced  to 
a  mass  of  sinews  and  muscles.  Of  late  he  had  exercised 
more  than  usual,  having  worked  out  of  doors  in  improv- 
ing the  lands  and  buildings,  so  that  he  was  hardy.  The 
old  skill  that  he  had  exhibited  on  the  battlefield  was 
by  no  means  forgotten,  and  now,  when  so  much  was  at 
stake,  he  was  doubly  armed.  The  duke  would  have 
withdrawn  after  he  had  seen  Hugues  open  his  arm  and 
make  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  his  blood,  but  the  honor 
and  reputation  of  his  house  were  at  stake,  and  he  could 
not  flinch. 

The  great  hall  was  cleared,  lights  suspended  from 
above,  and  the  burning  logs  in  the  huge  fireplace  threw 
out  a  flood  of  light.  All  the  inmates  of  the  castle  were 
assembled  to  see  the  amusement,  or,  as  the  retainers 


258  GRANDMONT. 

expressed  it,  to  see  how  scientifically  the  duke  could 
"  carve  this  goose."  Before  he  began,  the  duke  called 
several  of  the  younger  vassals  and  bade  them  notice 
how  he  could  cleave  a  skull  at  a  blow  and  thrust  the 
body  through  before  it  fell.  Just  as  all  was  ready 
he  ordered  the  servants  to  have  water  ready,  as  they 
were  about  to  have  a  bad  mess  on  the  floor.  When  the 
signal  was  sounded,  the  duke  cried,  "  Now  come  and  be 
carved."  Hugues  meekly  asked,  "  Let  the  rules  of  conflict 
be  read."  The  request  was  granted,  and  he  noted  espe- 
cially this  passage  :  "  If  one  should  fall,  or  after  making 
a  thrust  or  slash  lose  his  sword,  or  if  the  sword  should 
be  wrenched  from  the  hand,  the  one  who  accomplished 
this  should  be  counted  to  have  the  advantage,  and  would 
have  the  right  to  a  blow  at  the  prostrate  man  or  be 
acknowledged  victor,  and  whatever  he  claimed  of  the 
conquered  should  be  granted."  These  conditions  were 
greatly  in  Hugues 's  favor.  He  risked  having  his  head  cut 
open  and  his  lifeless  body  hung  to  the  castle  wall,  while 
the  duke  put  himself  at  the  mercy  of  Hugues's  demand 
or  of  the  fatal  blow. 

"  No  more  dallying.  I  want  to  go  to  bed  in  fifteen 
minutes,"  shouted  the  blustering  lord.  "Come,  monk, 
stand  up ! " 

Hugues  was  standing  all  the  time,  and  was  only 
awaiting  the  signal  to  begin.  This  was  now  given,  and 
the  count  made  a  tremendous  dash  at  Hugues  with  a 
crushing  blow  that  would  have  been  enough  to  fell  an 
ox ;  but,  agile  as  a  doe,  Hugues  sprang  aside,  turning 
so  as  to  catch  his  enemy's  sword  and  give  it  a  glanc- 
ing stroke,  which  changed  its  course  so  that  it  made 
a  deep  gash  in  the  duke's  thigh  and  broke  its  own 
point  on  the  stones.  The  duke  himself  fell  heavily  to 
the  pavement,  and  most  of  the  vassals  thought  he  was 
killed.  It  was  a  serious  shock  and  rendered  the  lord  of 


DUKE   FULK  THE   BLACK.  259 

the  castle  half  insensible.  Hugues,  instead  of  taking 
the  advantage  that  his  opponent's  disability  and  the  con- 
ditions gave  him,  was  at  Anjou's  side  in  a  moment, 
and  helped  stanch  the  blood  that  was  pouring  from 
the  wounded  flesh.  The  spectators  looked  on  in  amaze- 
ment, and  began  to  whisper:  "  It  is  a  saint,  it  is  a  saint. 
No  fiend  would  try  to  help  a  wounded  adversary."  In 
fact,  they  all  crowded  around,  but  at  a  respectable  dis- 
tance, admiring  the  way  that  the  wounded  limb  was 
cared  for.  When  the  old  duke  came  to  himself  and  saw 
the  calm,  anxious  face  of  Hugues,  he  cried  out :  "  It  is 
Hugues  de  Lacerta.  I  have  heard  that  thou  wert  a 
saint  and  now  I  believe  it.  I  will  follow  thee  and  do  thy 
will."  The  duke  was  cared  for,  and  Hugues  was  lodged 
in  the  best  chamber  of  the  castle.  The  gash  was  not 
very  serious,  as  the  force  of  the  blow  was  spent  on  the 
ground. 

Early  the  next  morning  all  were  aroused,  and,  in  spite 
of  protestations  from  the  inmates  of  the  castle  and  the 
counsel  of  Hugues,  the  duke  would  straightway  go  forth 
to  make  the  pilgrimage  to  Grandmont.  Hugues  thought 
the  converting  part  would  better  be  left  to  Etienne  ;  so, 
beyond  his  services  for  the  dead  and  other  religious  cere- 
monies which  he  performed  so  carefully,  he  was  very 
reticent  and  said  but  little  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou. 

Early  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  one  on  which  Hugues 
had  left  Grandmont,  Herbert  of  Le  Mans  was  allexcitement, 
and  was  heard  to  say  :  "  It  was  a  most  foolhardy  attempt. 
No  man  with  his  senses  would  have  thought  for  a  moment 
of  going  single-handed  to  bring  hither  that  beast.  In 
all  probability  Hugues  is  now  dangling  from  one  of  the 
parapets  of  the  castle.  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for 
permitting  him  to  go."  These  words  did  not  comfort 
Etienne  very  much,  but  he  endeavored  to  continue 
praying  in  faith,  and  comforted  himself  with  the  thought 


26O  GRANDMONT. 

that  Hugues  would  return  all  right,  even  if  he  did  not 
bring  the  terrible  duke  with  him.  The  chapel  service 
was  finished,  and  the  monks  had  been  urged  with  more 
than  usual  vehemence  to  pray  for  Hugues,  and  all  wore 
a  sad,  dejected  look,  when  suddenly  the  little  bell  that 
hung  overjhe  portal  was  rung,  and  on  opening  the  door 
in  walked  the  duke,  followed  by  the  sturdy  monk.  The 
monks  were  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  chapel.  Herbert 
of  Le  Mans  had  been  with  them  and  was  in  the  proces- 
sion, when,  looking  down  the  path  to  the  gate,  he  saw 
his  enemy  and  Hugues. 

He  uttered  a  cry  of  terror  and  would  have  fled  and  hid- 
den himself  had  any  way  been  opened.  All  that  he  could 
do  was  to  run  trembling  to  a  cell  and  hide  away  as  best 
he  might.  Etienne  nearly  always  received  his  guests  in 
the  chapel,  and  there  he  remained  to  hear  what  Hugues 
and  the  duke  had  to  report.  The  former,  advancing, 
knelt  to  receive  the  benediction  of  his  master,  and  "then 
said,  "  I  have  the  great  pleasure  of  introducing  the  Duke 
of  Anjou,  who  comes  to  make  his  confession  and  seek 
repentance  at  this  holy  place."  "  It  is  well,  and  blessed 
be  heaven  that  has  inclined  his  heart,"  said  Etienne, 
greatly  moved  at  what  he  considered  the  miraculous 
success  of  his  follower.  The  abbot  then  ordered  the 
bell  to  be  rung  for  a  new  service,  which  was  performed 
at  once,  all  joining  in  with  great  fervor.  Hugues  was 
seen  in  health  and  soundness  in  his  accustomed  place, 
and  Herbert  of  Mans  took  a  seat  as  far  as  possible  from 
where  the  belligerent  duke  was  sitting. 

Many  years  had  passed  since  the  man  of  war  had 
been  at  a  similar  service.  He  did  not  know  what  to 
do  or  how  to  act.  He  sat  like  an  amazed  child,  never 
closing  his  eyes  or  bending  his  knees,  but  by  the  look  on 
his  face  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  deeply  impressed. 

After  the  service  was  finished,  Etienne  asked  the  duke 


DUKE  FULK  THE   BLACK.  261 

if  he  wished  to  confess  and  repent.  He  answered,  "  Never 
in  my  life  have  I  met  a  man,  if  he  is  a  man,  who  is  able 
to  use  a  sword  as  handily  as  this  servant  of  thine  ;  and  if 
confession  and  repentance  will  make  me  as  supple  as  he, 
then  I  want  to  confess  and  repent." 

"  I  fear,"  replied  Etienne,"  that  thou  dost  not  under- 
stand what  we  mean.  We  speak  not  of  carnal  things 
here.  But  come,  my  brother,  I  will  explain  to  thee  in 
private." 

Then,  all  the  monks  having  been  dismissed  except 
Hugues  (who  for  prudential  reasons  was  invited  to 
remain),  the  following  conversation  took  place  : 

"  I  have  heard  that  thou  hast  been  a  man  of  sin,  one 
who  has  been  the  terror  not  only  of  the  temporal  power, 
but  of  the  Church.  Thy  crimes  and  thy  evil  deeds  have 
made  thee  famous  as  a  sinner.  Tell  me  now,  art  thou 
ready  to  confess  thy  sins,  repent  of  thy  evil  ways,  and 
henceforth  lead  a  good  and  proper  life  ? " 

"  I  am  willing  to  do  anything,"  replied  the  duke, 
"  that  will  make  me  so  handy  with  the  sword  that  I 
can  defend  my  head  from  my  enemy's  club  and  make 
his  sword  cut  himself  instead  of  me." 

"  What !  "  asked  Etienne  with  surprise  ;  "  wouldst  thou 
come  to  this  place  of  peace  and  prayer  to  learn  the  cruel 
arts  of  war  ? " 

"  I  know,"  answered  the  duke,  "  that  thou  hast  sent 
a  man  to  my  castle  that  single-handed  has  given  me  the 
worst  overthrow  I  have  ever  had  in  my  life,  and  I  should 
like  to  know  the  art  that  thou  hast  of  teaching  these 
tricks,  for  I  have  several  dangerous  engagements  on  hand 
that  will  require  all  of  my  skill." 

"  Let  us  wait  three  days, "  said  Etienne  ;  "  then  let  us 
meet  together  after  fasting  and  praying,  and  we  will  hold 
further  converse  and  judge  what  would  best  be  done.  In 
the  meanwhile  I  will  ask  Hugues  to  escort  thee  to  thy 


262  GRANDMONT. 

cell.  And  I  bid  thee  pray  with  all  thy  heart,  fast,  and 
attend  the  services;  then,  perhaps,  thou  wilt  see  more 
clearly  and  understand  the  meaning  of  repentance  and 
confession,  and  thy  poor  soul  may  be  fitted  for  heaven 
at  last." 

Hugues  showed  the  duke  to  a  cell,  and,  being  very 
wearied  with  his  walk,  he  stretched  himself  on  the  hard 
stone  floor  and  was  soon  asleep.  Long  and  loud  was 
that  slumber. 

Hugues  went  to  Etienne  and  repeated  all  that  had 
taken  place  since  his  departure,  to  the  great  astonish- 
ment of  his  master,  who  asked  :  "And  didst  thou  risk  thy 
life  to  bring  him  here  ?  Thou  art  another  David,  only 
thou  hast  not  slain  him.  Heaven  be  praised  for  saving 
thee  and  bringing  him  here.  But  what  shall  we  do 
now  that  we  have  him  ?" 

"  Do  ? "  replied  Hugues.  "  Make  him  feel  that  the  devil 
is  sure  of  him,  that  his  fiends  are  building  fires  to  roast 
him  because  of  his  sins,  and  let  all  of  the  monks  groan 
and  cry  when  mention  is  made  of  it." 

That  Hugues  understood  the  man  with  whom  he 
had  to  deal  there  is  no  doubt.  The  duke  was  but  a 
brute,  and  could  not  be  touched  except  by  that  which 
would  appeal  to  his  brutal  nature.  During  the  three 
days  it  was  therefore  designed  that  the  terrors  should  be 
preached. 

When  the  bell  sounded  for  worship,  the  old  duke  was 
still  sleeping,  and  the  one  whose  duty  it  was  to  go  to  every 
cell  and  see  that  the  occupant  was  up  and  out  for  chapel 
entered  the  cell  and  called  to  the  sleeper,  who  did  not 
stir.  Then,  going  to  his  side,  he  gently  shook  him,  saying, 
"  It  is  time  for  prayers  ;  arouse." 

"  I'll  teach  thee  to  disturb  my  sleep,"  cried  the  angry 
warrior,  giving  the  monk  a  blow  with  his  open  hand 
that  sent  the  ecclesiastic  sprawling  out  of  the  door. 


DUKE  FULK  THE  BLACK.  263 

Just  then  Hugues,  passing  by,  asked  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance. 

"Nothing,"  said  the  monk;  "except  he  cracked  my 
skull  when  I  awoke  him." 

Hugues  went  in  and  bade  the  duke  come  to  prayers, 
which  he  proceeded  to  do  without  much  ceremony. 
The  sermon  was,  as  Hugues  suggested,  on  "  The  Agony  of 
the  Lost,"  and  the  fervid  imagination  of  the  monk  drew 
such  ghastly  pictures  that  even  Dante  himself  might 
pause  in  envy.  The  duke  sat  in  wonder ;  the  monks 
screamed  and  crossed  themselves ;  the  tears  rolled  down 
Etienne's  face. 

The  old  duke  grew  uneasy.  What  he  had  heard  was 
enough  to  make  him  very  much  dissatisfied  with  him- 
self. He  was  not  in  good  condition.  The  scant  bowl  of 
thin  soup  that  was  served  at  the  slender  meal  had  not 
satisfied  him.  He  wanted  company  and  diversion,  but  in 
his  cell  he  could  not  find  it.  His  mind  began  the  long- 
unused  occupation  of  reflection.  He  thought  of  the 
past.  Sleep  now  forsook  his  eyelids.  Unpleasant 
thoughts  and  suggestions  from  the  sermon  he  had  just 
listened  to  would  come  before  him,  and  he  thought  he 
saw  phantoms.  So  he  continued  until  midnight,  and 
then  he  saw  that  weird  procession  go  forth  to  walk 
thrice  around  the  cemetery. 

Hugues  suggested  that  all  the  monks  at  the  close  should 
ask  aloud  the  question,  "  Am  I  prepared  for  heaven  or 
hell  ?  "  These  solemn  words  awoke  a  terrible  feeling  in 
the  wretched  old  duke.  He  began  to  recall  the  good 
deeds  of  his  past  life.  At  first  he  thought  there  was  quite 
a  number,  but  when  after  the  next  sermon  he  heard 
what  good  deeds  were,  and  how  little  it  took  to  spoil 
goodness,  on  reexamination  he  found  himself  shut  out. 

Indeed,  he  began  to  feel  that  he  was  a  sinner ;  and  when 
the  third  sermon  was  preached  on  "  The  Devil's  Way 


264  GRANDMONT. 

with  Sinners,"  he  began  to  melt  down,  and  cried  out  with 
the  rest  of  the  monks.  The  feeling  became  contagious, 
and  in  a  little  while  there  was  a  regular  vale  of  Bochim. 
The  loudest  weeper  was  the  black  duke. 

He  was  now  ready  to  go  to  Etienne  and  confess.  He 
poured  out  all  the  evil  deeds  that  he  could  remember. 
Etienne  gave  as  his  penance  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Land  and  the  restoration  of  what  he  had  stolen. 
Herbert  of  Le  Mans  was  called  in,  and  the  duke  on  his 
knees  asked  his  pardon  and  promised  on  his  return  to 
restore  all.  Etienne  wanted  him  then  and  there  to  make 
restitution,  but  the  old  duke  promised  he  would  on  his  re- 
turn, and,  receiving  conditional  forgiveness,  he  at  once 
started  out  for  the  Holy  Land. 

He  was  successful  in  reaching  Jerusalem,  and  there 
sought  martyrdom  by  crying  out,  "I  am  a  Christian." 
He  even  hired  a  man  to  scourge  his  naked  back  while 
he  went  crying  through  the  streets  of  the  city.  He  re- 
mained there  for  some  little  time,  engaging  in  all  kinds  of 
enterprises,  visiting  all  the  sacred  places,  but  he  returned 
finally  to  his  castle  worse  than  before.  He  felt  that  he 
had  obtained  indulgence  for  future  sins  and  forgiveness 
for  past  offenses.  In  fact,  words  made  no  impression, 
for  he  would  answer  every  appeal  with  the  argument,  "  I 
have  been  to  the  holy  sepulcher  and  have  received  the 
indulgence  of  the  pope." 

Only  one  thing  was  noticeable  after  this,  that  he  had  a 
higher  respect  for  the  monks,  and  spoke  of  Hugues  until 
his  dying  day  as  a  perfect  master  of  the  sword. 

This  was  the  experience  of  a  great  many  who  went  to 
the  Holy  Land,  as  they  were  filled  with  self-pride  and  self- 
sufficiency,  and  thought  that,  as  they  had  satisfied  the 
laws  of  heaven,  no  act  of  theirs  could  change  their  title 
to  future  glory. 

In  after  times  this  monastery  became  the  great  resort 


DUKE   FULK   THE   BLACK.  265 

of  men  who  were  at  war.  The  hostile  Dukes  of  Berri 
and  of  Burgundy  met  here,  and  after  fasting  for-  three 
days  in  separate  cells  were  brought  together.  Holy  com- 
munion was  refused  them  until  they  would  grasp  each 
other's  hands  and  swear  friendship.  After  this  fast,  and 
with  no  prospect  of  getting  out  under  any  other  condi- 
tions, and  in  the  environment  of  monks,  prayers,  masses, 
and  chants,  the  fight  was  generally  all  taken  out  of  the 
most  quarrelsome  and  the  way  to  reconciliation  was 
paved. 

The  work  performed  on  the  Duke  of  Anjou  made 
Grandmont  famous,  and  all  who  were  injured  came  here 
with  their  woes,  and  its  influence  was  extended  over  the 
whole  of  what  is  now  known  as  France,  and  even  into 
Belgium  and  some  parts  of  Germany.  This  work  was 
extremely  wearing.  Grandmont  was  under  the  pope 
directly,  and  for  this  reason  was  considered  neutral,  and 
it  became  the  great  arbitrating  power  of  central  Europe, 
the  weaker  party  especially  seeking  its  protecting  power. 
17 


266  GRANDMONT. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  lonely  little  cell  which  Etienne  with  his  own 
hands  had  formed  out  of  the  rocks  nearly  fifty 
years  before  was  now  the  center  of  a  large  group  of  sim- 
ilar caves,  in  which  men  shrinking  from  the  world 
sought  to  find  peace  and  preparation  for  the  world  to  come. 
There  was  no  order  or  beauty  about  the  construction  of 
these  rough  abodes  ;  indeed,  there  was  no  common  roof  to 
shield  them  from  the  storms  and  fury  of  the  elements. 
There  was  a  rude  chapel  where  the  monks  met,  often 
as  many  as  seven  times  a  day,  and  in  which  some  spent 
most  of  their  time,  and  there  was  a  hall  or  refectory 
where  the  simple,  frugal  meals  were  served.  The 
brethren  took  turns  in  serving,  as  well  as  in  cooking  ;  but 
the  dishes  were  not  greatly  varied,  and  the  cuisine  was 
not  difficult  to  manage. 

The  austerity,  the  benevolence,  and  the  good  reputa- 
tion of  the  monks  of  Grandmont  spread,  far  and  wide,  and 
the  humble  shrine  became  one  of  the  greatest  attractions 
of  central  Europe.  That  great  movement  which  was  to 
bring  powerful  princes,  ruling  sovereigns,  and  victorious 
warriors  to  this  seat  of  purity  and  peace,  as  it  was 
known,  was  just  beginning.  Years  after  this  the  Prin- 
cess Matilda  enriched  the  monastery  with  a  lavish  out- 
pouring of  wealth.  Henry  the  Second,  while  being 
tossed  on  the  Channel  in  a  storm,  encouraged  the  cap- 
tain and  the  sailors  by  saying,  "  Fear  not !  The  good 
men  of  Grandmont  are  praying  for  us  !  "  And  the  ship 
was  brought  in  safety  through  the  peril. 


CONCLUSION.  267 

The  jealousy  which  had  been  aroused  in  the  early  part 
of  the  history  of  this  establishment  grew  worse  instead 
of  better.  The  Benedictines  and  the  neighboring 
clergy,  whose  lives  were  so  very  different  from  those  of 
the  followers  of  Etienne,  looked  with  no  favor  on  their 
growing  prosperity.  The  meanest  kind  of  persecution 
followed,  and  every  sort  of  pernicious  action  was  in- 
dulged in  that  might  injure  these  monks.  The  hard- 
est thing  that  evil  .has  to  battle  with  is  truth.  Light 
may  be  hidden  for  a  while,  but  it  is  sure  to  come  out  at 
last,  and  the  contrast  is  strong  against  the  evil.  Nothing 
is  more  prejudicial  to  the  wicked  designer  than  to  be 
shown  up  in  his  wickedness,  and  it  happened  that  in  the 
attempt  to  crush  Hugues  the  reaction  against  the  Bene- 
dictines was  something  terrible,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  kindness  and  forgiveness  of  Etienne  and  Hugues  it 
is  probable  that  they  would  have  been  driven  from  the 
country. 

But  a  great  and  terrible  loss  was  in  store  for  the  little 
band.  The  winter  of  1124  had  set  in  with  unusual 
vigor.  Etienne,  now  in  his  eightieth  year,  was  feeble 
and  sickly.  How  he  had  lived  so  long  was  a  mystery, 
and  some  of  the  monks  thought  it  was  by  miraculous 
help.  But  the  tottering  form  still  continued  on  the 
round  of  duties,  which  had  become  a  second  life.  Sel- 
dom now  would  his  voice  be  heard  beyond  a  mere  ejac- 
ulatory  sentence  urging  the  brothers  to  forgiveness  and 
love.  Among  the  most  watchful  and  mindful  of  all  was 
Hugues.  He  was  his  constant  companion,  and  could 
hardly  be  urged  to  leave  his  master's  side.  Etienne,  as 
he  grew  older,  became  more  and  more  childlike.  His 
faith  was  implicit,  his  love  wide  as  humanity,  and  as  for 
revenge  and  the  harder  feelings  that  possess  the  heart, 
he  had  driven  them  all  away.  It  was  like  the  sun, 
which  has  been  clouded  during  the  day  with  mist  and 


268  GRAND  MONT. 

storm,  shining  out  with  undimmed  radiance  at  its  set- 
ting. There  was  nothing  to  mar  the  closing  scenes  of 
this  life,  which  had  had  so  much  influence  on  the  age  in 
which  he  lived.  No  one  had  failed  to  notice  how  the 
hands  had  become  more  and  more  palsied,  how  the  form 
stooped  nearer  to  the  ground,  as  if  to  welcome  its 
coming  resting  place,  but  no  one  dared  to  think  of  the 
end. 

It  was  a  most  memorable  morning  that  eighth  of  Feb- 
ruary, and  is  one  graven  on  the  annals  of  Grandmont. 
The  monks  were  assembled  for  the  morning  mass, 
which  took  place  at  sunrise.  Etienne,  supported  by  the 
strong  arm  of  Hugues,  was  almost  carried  to  the  place 
he  usually  occupied.  The  service  was  repeated  as  usual, 
and  all  the  brethren  were  in  attendance.  At  the  close 
of  the  service  it  was  customary  for  Etienne  to  pro- 
nounce the  benediction.  The  ceremony  was  not  as  is 
usual  to-day  in  Romish  churches.  Etienne  and  all  the 
monks  knelt,  remaining  with  bowed  heads  for  some 
minutes  ;  then  the  sacred  formula  would  be  repeated. 
Now  all  sank  to  their  knees,  every  head  was  bowed,  a 
silence  as  of  the  tomb  prevailed,  and  only  the  breathing 
of  the  monks  was  heard.  Seconds  passed,  the  silence 
continued  ;  minutes  went  by,  not  one  word.  The  inten- 
sity of  the  expectation  became  so  great  that  some  of  the 
monks  glanced  up.  They  saw  the  upturned  face  of 
their  master,  his  hands  raised,  and  a  smile  on  his  face. 
They  still  waited,  some  thinking  that  he  had  seen  a 
vision,  others  that  he  was  in  a  trance.  None  dared  to 
speak  or  move ;  but  still  they  waited. 

All  eyes  were  now  open,  all  were  gazing  at  Etienne, 
but  preserving  a  silence  in  which  fear,  hope,  anxiety,  ad- 
miration, and  wonder  alike  played  an  important  part. 
Hugues,  who  was  always  close  to  his  beloved  master, 
now  arose  softly  and  approached  his  side.  The  eyes 


CONCLUSION.  269 

were  open,  but  fixed  ;  the  hands  uplifted,  but  cold ;  the 
face  was  turned  heavenward,  but  the  brow  was  icy.  It 
was  enough.  The  truth  came  like  a  flash  on  his  mind — 
Etienne  was  dead.  He  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  still 
kneeling  form  and  breathed  out  the  benediction,  adding 
a  prayer  of  his  own.  Then,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  quickly 
began  a  "  Te  Deum,"  in  which  all  of  the  monks  joined; 
but  tears  and  sobs  choked  the  utterance  and  made  the 
music  more  like  a  funeral  knell.  Hugues,  standing  in  his 
place,  spoke  of  the  glorious  victory,  the  rapturous  bliss, 
and  the  glory  of  the  departed  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
all  the  rest  feel  that  they  would  like  to  go  immediately 
with  their  former  head  to  the  skies. 

The  news  soon  spread,  and  multitudes  hurried  over  to 
the  chapel  to  see  the  dead  saint  kneeling  still.  It  was 
the  determination  to  leave  the  body  in  that  position  as 
long  as  possible.  The  effect  on  the  beholders  was  very 
marked,  and  although  the  Benedictines  said,  "  It  is  a 
trick,"  the  people  in  general  looked  upon  Etienne  as  a 
saint  and  believed  that  his  body  was  able  to  work 
miracles. 

The  directions  given  by  Etienne  before  his  death 
about  his  funeral  were  extremely  simple.  He  would 
allow  no  eulogy;  he  wished  to  have  the  service  of  the 
Church  repeated  over  him,  and  to  be  carried  three  times 
around  the  cemetery,  while  his  brethren  repeated  the 
words,  ''This  is  the  end  of  all  the  living."  He  selected 
the  spot  where  he  wished  to  be  laid,  which  was  close  to 
the  walk  that  was  daily  taken.  Never  before  had  the 
little  town  of  Ambazac  been  so  crowded.  The  highest 
dignitaries  of  Church  and  State  that  could  attend  by 
reason  of  their  proximity  were  there.  Great  gifts  were 
brought  to  adorn  his  monastery,  for  he  had  declared  that 
his  tomb  must  be  left  unadorned  ;  and  as  the  simple, 
quiet,  unobtrusive,  but  influential  life  of  the  monks  was 


2/0  GRANDMONT. 

realized,  it  was  the  cause  of  great  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, being  in  such  striking  contrast  to  the  pomp  and 
show  of  other  orders. 

The  death  of  Etienne  made  a  great  change  in  the 
affairs  of  Grandmont.  By  the  unanimous  wish  of  the 
order  Hugues  was  requested  to  become  the  abbot,  but 
it  was  with  great  reluctance  and  hesitation  that  he  finally 
consented  to  follow  the  wishes  of  the  monks.  It  was 
not  long  after  this  that,  in  order  to  obtain  more  perfect 
security  and  absolute  seclusion,  the  whole  order  moved 
up  the  mountains  to  that  wild,  deserted  place  where  for 
six  centuries  their  building  stood  as  an  asylum  for  the 
oppressed,  a  monument  of  peace  and  good  will. 
Hugues  sought  to  follow  the  example  of  Etienne.  In 
order  to  keep  the  monks  from  any  connection  with  the 
world,  there  was  introduced  into  the  brotherhood  a 
second  order  ot  men,  who,  not  being  ecclesiastics,  were 
exempt  from  many  of  the  religious  duties  and  obligations. 
They  occupied  themselves  with  works,  cultivated  the 
ground,  built  bridges,  laid  out  roads.  Their  work  was 
most  excellent,  and  as  the  traveler  of  to-day  rides  over 
the  highways  of  central  France,  oftentimes  his  attention 
is  called  to  bridges  which  have  withstood  the  wear  and 
tear  of  centuries,  whose  graceful  arches  have  borne 
the  burdens  of  hundreds  of  years  past,  and  which  will 
probably  resist  as  many  centuries  of  future  wear.  These 
workers  were  called  by  the  inhabitants,  "  The  good  men 
of  Grandmont."  Hugues  gave  these  directions  :  "  What- 
ever you  do,  do  it  as  if  the  eyes  of  God  were  upon  you. 
If  a  bridge  that  you  make  is  poorly  built  and  a  man 
breaks  through  and  loses  his  life,  you  are  guilty  of  his 
death.  If  the  road  that  you  make  is  poor  and  men  blas- 
pheme as  they  go  over  it,  the  blasphemy  is  at  your  door, 
for  you  were  the  tempters.  The  eyes  of  God  see  both 
sides,  and  if  there  is  any  poor  spot  he  knows  it.  Do, 


CONCLUSION.  271 

therefore,  all  to  meet  his  approval."  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  under  such  injunctions  roads,  bridges,  and  buildings 
rose  which  have  been  the  admiration  of  ages  ? 

We  will  not  follow  further  the  history  of  Grandmont. 
Enough  has  been  written  to  show  the  holiness  and 
earnestness  of  these  Christians,  whose  lovely,  holy  lives 
shine  out  so  brightly  in  the  dark  ages.  Hugues  in  his 
humble  cell,  beloved  by  all,  followed  to  a  peaceful  end 
the  life  he  devoted  to  Etienne  and  his  monastery.  After 
the  heat  and  cold,  the  storms  and  calm,  the  days  and 
nights  of  eightcenturies  that  have  swept  their  weary  length 
along  ;  after  the  discovery  of  continents,  the  peopling  of 
new  worlds,  the  various  changes  that  have  followed  the 
rapid  progess  of  civilization,  science,  and  knowledge,  we 
now  take  our  stand  on  the  ruins  of  the  monastery  that 
was  once  the  pride  of  central  France.  Bickerings,  strife, 
jealousies,  and  dissensions  finally  broke  up  the  order 
founded  by  Etienne.  The  costly  gifts  of  kings  have 
been  divided  among  the  various  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tions, or  have  fallen  the  prey  of  unholy  greed,  and  a  soli- 
tary chapel  with  a  heap  of  ruins  only  remains  as  a  tomb- 
stone of  what  once  was.  The  massive  masonry  and  well- 
built  walls,  every  stone  of  which  was  laid  in  prayer,  have 
been  mostly  dismantled.  A  man  who  had  the  contract 
to  build  the  courthouse  at  Limoges  bought  the  old  build- 
ings for  the  hewn  stone.  As  he  proceeded  in  the  work 
of  destruction  and  saw  the  fine  masonry,  how  well  the 
work  was  done,  how  conscientiously  and  true  the  build- 
ing was  built,  tears  are  said  to  have  filled  his  eyes, 
and  he  said,  "  Alas,  no  one  builds  this  way  now."  It 
will  be  but  a  little  time  ere  the  ivy,  moss,  and  rubbish 
will  hide  forever  the  spot  once  so  revered.  The  bones 
of  Etienne  are  scattered.  Hugues  was  also  considered 
and  honored  as  a  saint,  but  the  active,  practical  age  in 
which  we  live  is  hurrying  all  into  the  darkness  of 


2/2  GRANDMONT. 

oblivion.  The  very  spot  that  had  such  an  influence 
will  be  lost.  The  names  of  the  men  who  gave  a  tone  to 
their  age  and  whose  characters  stand  out  like  a  mid- 
night sun  will  be  forgotten,  and  with  them  the  debt  of 
obligation  which  we  owe  to  those  who  in  the  midst  of 
error  held  fast  to  truth  as  they  knew  it,  who  in  the  tu- 
multuous and  contending  currents  of  passion,  avarice, 
selfishness,  cruelty,  and  superstition  maintained  a  high 
standard  of  charity  and  virtue,  which  kept  the  age  from 
utter  barbarism  and  opened  the  way  for  the  triumphal 
march  of  the  centuries  of  progress  toward  the  grand 
attainments  of  the  dawn  of  the  twentieth  century. 


THE    END. 


A    000132813     7 


